Rosies New Mommy
by FoxxStarr
Summary: The continued adventures of Lyssa Jones, this story follows after the events of A Nanny for Rosie and explores the relationship they've all embarked on but now a new villain has emerged and he determined to bring London and Sherlock to their knees. This one has a more cohesive plotline than the first one. Rated M for violence, sexy stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok so I never did get any feedback about whether you wanted to see more of Lyssa but at nearly a thousand views I'm going to assume you do so here I go with the next installment. We're going to backtrack just a little this first chapter. For anyone reading this one who hasn't read Nanny for Rosie you should go read that one first. I own nothing. Reviewers get good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

 _Lyssa walked over to them and took one of their hands in each of hers. She stood between them holding their hands. "I have spent three years living with you both, raising your amazing daughter, I have had the incredible privilege of being welcomed into your home and the life you've built here." She took a deep breath and knew the next words would define every single moment that followed. "I cannot imagine loving just one of you. I can't just love only one of you. You've always been a unit to me. John and Sherlock, Sherlock and John, you're not whole without each other and I wouldn't be whole without the both of you… And I don't know how to do this. Any of it. I just know I love you both with all my heart."_

 _She closed her eyes her breath shaking as she held their hands. She felt them both stand up and her eyes flew open when they each wrapped an arm around her. She looked up at them both, the wild, exaltant grins on their faces matched and she felt her heart skip a beat. Sherlock cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her stunned lips then John turned her face and did the same. "Everything else is details love. We're good at details." Sherlock murmured in her ear._

 _She gasped and laughed hugging them both tightly to her. She staggered when Rosie flew into her legs squeezing tightly and she looked down at the girl. "Does this mean you get to be my mommy?"_

 _John scooped up his daughter and she wrapped her arms around Lyssa's neck as Lyssa kissed her cheek. "I think it does Rosie."_

 _She stood surrounded by her strange little family, the two men who loved her that she loved in return holding the child she loved like her own and couldn't give a damn about what anyone else would think. After all, everything else was just details and they were good at details._

 **Two years Later:**

The Devil, as the saying went, was in the details and there were a lot of details that had to get sorted out. They kept cropping up at odd little moments over the last two years, privacy details, sleeping details, insurance details, custody details, and on and on and on. But the hardest detail to sort had been the School Detail. Rosie had been right when she'd told her fathers two years ago that people at her school thought her home life was weird and when the news came out that Lyssa was no longer just the nanny weird was apparently not a strong enough word to cover it.

Words like perverted, sinful and inappropriate replaced it and those were the kindest ones. The bullying that had begun when Rosie was in kindergarten but had tapered off by first grade began again in earnest and not just by the other children. A handful of times in the last two years Lyssa had come dangerously close to calling it all off just to spare Rosie the trauma. She vividly remembered the first big fight they'd had, not over who would sleep in her bed, not who had what date night with her, nothing as intrinsic to a romantic relationship even in such odd circumstances. She had gotten Rosie off the bus and the girl had been in tears over receiving an unfair bad mark on her test even though the questions had been answered correctly, bullying by adults was new to the girl and it cut deeply. Lyssa had been shaken by the unfair behavior and had raised her concerns after Rosie was in bed suggesting that maybe for the good of Rosie they should go back to their previous arrangement.

Mrs. Hudson had had to come referee the fight and had taken Rosie, who had been woken by the shouting, down to her flat. Lyssa had stood in the shambles of the sitting room her heart hammering and her heart stinging while Sherlock retreated to his room. John had slowly sat in his chair his face pale but when he spoke he was calm. "I understand it." He finally said and she looked at him trying not to cry. "You love her, like your own and it hurts you to see her being bullied for something her parents are doing. It cuts you to the quick and you want so badly to make her stop hurting because it's so damned unfair." His voice cracked a little and she walked over hesitantly reaching her hand out to him. "And maybe it would stop if we went back, maybe they would stop being such capricious pricks but they'd never let her forget it and she would never forget either, it's already happened you see, the cup has fallen and a little chip has come out of the rim and even if you glue it back the mark will still be there." His voice was rough and he looked down at his hands, not so long or graceful as Sherlock's, maybe a little less clever but they were strong and gentle and he had both killed and healed with them.

He looked at Lyssa who was crying openly now, he hated to see her cry, she didn't cry often and it always made him feel like hed failed somehow, he knew Sherlock was listening from behind his door and he kept going. "And in the end Lyssa, it would break her more if we tried to go back, we can't just go back to how it was, not knowing how we all feel. She wouldn't understand because to her you're her mother now, and she's already lost one mother, I don't think she could handle losing another. I don't think Sherlock and I could either."

She sank to her knees by his chair and leaned her head on his knee and he saw Sherlock's door open, he gave the detective a sharp looking telling him with a glance to get himself over here and help him. Sherlock hurried over tears in his own eyes, he hadn't understood what Lyssa was trying to say, hadn't realized how she worried for their little girl and how much it hurt her to see Rosie being hurt by people who were supposed to nurture and protect her. All he'd heard was. "I think we should go back to how it was before." All he'd felt was rejection and the pain that came with it.

There had been apologies and tears and finally as the night waned smiles, kisses and reaffirmations.

Now two years later Lyssa and the boys had developed methods for coping with the bigotry, they stood as a united front against the bullying and the negativity and even the tabloids who just ate up what sordid little details they could get about the famous consulting detective and his lovers though John was quick to point out to any reporter who would listen at all that it was just he and Lyssa who were lovers, not He Lyssa _and_ Sherlock. Not that it helped much.

Two years had seen them work out who slept with whom, Lyssa kept her room and one of the men joined her every night on a schedule made up completely of whether Sherlock had a case or not. Needless to say John slept curled against her more often than Sherlock but Sherlock got his fair share of time in her bed with her at strange and often random intervals. Date night alternated and they regularly had dates as a threesome. Sex was a little awkward from time to time since both men turned out to be rapacious lovers but they managed and when they didn't they all had a good laugh. Lyssa's routine didn't change in any huge way, she still got Rosie to School, cleaned, cooked, ran errands, made sure the boys were fed and clothed and got Rosie off the bus and helped with homework, only now there were stolen kisses in front of the stove, showers got shared every now and then and nights were full of warmth and passion. And best of all to everyone's mind Rosie got to call her mommy.

However for all good there is equal bad, balance must be maintained and they were all about to find out how bad it cold get and it all started out with an explosion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! Just a heads up this story is going to b a lot more intense than the last one. There's going to be some pretty intense imagery and a lot more swearing. Thanks for reading and as always Reviews get good Karma and Kitten Kisses**

Lyssa was taking the tube to St Barts with Rosie to see Sherlock, every Thursday Rosie and Sherlock were allowed to visit one department and receive lessons from that department's faculty, this week they were going to be in Hematology learning about blood. Rosie was very excited and all but bouncing in her seat over it. She was almost eight years old and had put on several inches in height, Lyssa was only half listening to what she was chattering about as she made notes in her day planner, they had an appointment the following day to see if they could move Rosie ahead a grade or if they were going to have to transfer her to a school more capable of handling Rosies unusual and more advanced intellect. She wasn't a prodigy like Sherlock but thanks to Sherlock she was more advanced than any child in her grade and she absorbed information like a happy sponge. Lyssa and John often found them with their heads together over some text book or in Sherlock's kitchen while she asked him questions and he answered them in an absent minded fashion while he conducted whatever experiment he was currently absorbed in.

John was both proud of her and concerned that she was missing out on the activities of normal children but Rosie was on the soccer team and had several friends though none of the poor girls were allowed to visit their flat anymore after Sherlock had thought it would be a good idea to show the children his newest severed head. It had taken every ounce of diplomacy John and Lyssa had to smooth that one over. She looked up as the tube slowed at a stop but it wasn't their stop so she went back to her notes. A few people filtered onto the tube and she closed her day planner and smiled at Rosie. "Ok Rosie, remember what we talked about?"

Rosie sighed and Lyssa tried not to smile. Rosie was eight going on eighteen at this stage and Sherlock didn't help matters with his insistence on treating her like an adult. "Don't steal samples from the Hematology Lab, don't let Papa steal samples from the lab, don't let Papa contaminate or otherwise tamper with samples from the lab. If I think Papa is going to do anything that would damage the integrity of the samples in the lab I am to call for Aunt Molly." Rosie made a face.

"And don't let Papa experiment of any of the faculty or other patients." Lyssa finished.

"He's not that bad Mom." Rosie said.

Lyssa opened her mouth to retort when the whole subway car lurched to the side impacting the wall of the subway tunnel. It lurched to the other side and everyone was thrown to the floor. A few minutes later the roaring sound of an explosion caught up with the train and Lyssa was temporarily deafened. She blinked watering eyes and tried to find Rosie, she saw Rosie's honey blond hair and reached out pulling her close as the heat of the explosion washed over the tube making her gasp at the intensity. The tube was filled with screams and the sound of rubble pinging off the metal of the subway car. The lights failed and the emergency lights struggled to flicker to life filling the car with faint red light.

"Mom… what happened…?" Rosie asked coughing.

Lyssa struggled to sit up away from the press of bodies around her and peered at Rosie. "Are you hurt?" She asked running her hands over Rosies head and came away with blood from the back of Rosie's head.

"A little, my head hurts and I think I sprained my wrist." Rosie sat up and scooted closer to Lyssa.

"You must have whacked your head on the divider bar." Lyssa said and pressed her hand to the cut making Rosie wince.

More rubble fell on the car and a section of the metal bowed inward, 'Oh God…' Lyssa thought as she pulled Rose in closer.

There were more screams and a general sense of hysteria. "The car is cut off from the rest of the train!" Someone screamed.

"There's rock a rockslide on this end." Someone else yelled.

"Mom… are we… are we buried in the tube?" Rosie asked and Lyssa took a shaky breath.

"Yeah honey… I think we are." She checked her phone hoping to call Sherlock or John but there was no signal.

Sherlock had arrived at St. Barts early so he could have a few minutes to talk to John before Rosie joined him for their weekly lesson. He was feeling uncharacteristically anxious when he knocked on John's office door, John called out a brusque 'Enter' and Sherlock opened the door slipping in. John looked up and smiled. "You're here early, boring day at home without the girls?"

Sherlock gave a slight smirk. "Not as such." He said.

John put his pen down and leaned back crossing his legs at the ankle and his arms over his chest. "So you came to visit me?"

"Not as such." Sherlock repeated leaning back against the door crossing his own arms and ankles.

They regarded each other for a few minutes and then John started to laugh and after a moment Sherlock joined him. "Ok you berk, why are you here?" John asked after a moment. Sherlock took a deep breath then pulled a ring box out of his pocket and held it out to John. John blinked and sat up. "Oh…" He cleared his throat and clasped his hands in his lap. "Oh I see… When… when were you going to ask her?"

Sherlock took a few steps forward and opened the box showing John three bands each set with a trio of brilliantly colored stones, shiny black jet, brilliant pale blue sapphire and a deep dark red garnet. "Not just her. Both of you, I want you to help me make it special, make it right."

John stared at the rings then at Sherlock. "Both of us? You're going to ask us both?"

"I thought we could both ask her." Sherlock corrected.

John grinned and stood up, he hugged Sherlock clapping him on the back. "That's brilliant Sherlock. I was wondering how we were going to do that."

He stepped back and sank back down into his chair. "Wait she can only marry one of us… who does she marry?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I doubt we're going to have a traditional marriage ceremony with all the legal ties and ramifications. But there is precedent for polygamous marriage throughout history, it would be a purely secular ceremony devoid of the legalities similar to the pagan handfasting or the Polynesian Festival marriages."

John grinned and shook his head. "You know what, I don't even care, I love the idea, when do we ask her?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer and was interrupted by an explosion that rocked the street and shattered the windows. John dove at Sherlock knocking him to the floor and covering him in a moment of pure instinct born from years of military service. Alarms were going off throughout the building and through the ringing in their ears Sherlock and John heard more sirens from the street. The got up off the floor and Sherlock looked around for the ring box. He found it under the desk and after checking on the rings he shoved it back into his pocket. John looked at Sherlock. "I have to be in the Emergency Department Sherlock. There will be injuries, you'd better go find Lestrade, he'll need you!"

Sherlock nodded and grabbed the doorknob then froze and turned back to John. "Lyssa and Rosie were on their way here." He breathed and he saw the stab of fear flicker across John's face, the fear that matched his own.

John sucked in a breath and let it out unconsciously straightening up, his military bearing coming to the fore. "Lestrade will be going to the blast site, your best chance of finding them will be to stay close to Lestrade, he'll be getting all the information in real time. I have to stay here and help the wounded, if they're hurt they'll be brought here and I will call you."

Sherlock nodded too quickly and opened the door just as his phone rang, he glanced at the display hoping it was Lyssa but it was Lestrade's number. He answered it as his long strides took him to the emergency stairs. "I am at St Barts, I will be on the curb in 2 minutes 26 seconds."

"I'll be there in three minutes Sherlock. The blast seems to have originated from multiple locations. Your brother called me and told me that the Royal Family have been moved to a secure location and Parliament is dispersed to various safe houses." Lestrade was barely understandable over the siren in the background.

"I don't give a damn about the government Lestrade, Lyssa and my daughter are out there in that mess somewhere." Sherlock snarled.

"Damn." Lestrade swore and Sherlock burst out into the chaos of a panicked London just as Lestrade swerved up to the curb.

Sherlock yanked open the door and slid in before the car had even come to a full stop and Lestrade pulled away siren still screaming.

"We'll find them Sherlock." Lestrade said as he careened through the stalled traffic.

He grabbed the radio. "All units be advised, we are enroute to the first bomb scene. Has anyone seen Lyssa Jones?"

The radio crackled. "Sherlocks nanny?" A voice squealed through the radio.

"Yeah. She was enroute to St Barts at the time of the blast. Someone check the CCTV, start at St Agnes Primary, she was picking up their daughter." Lestrade replied as they swerved to avoid a stalled lorry.

"We'll find her Lestrade."

Sherlock somehow managed to shelve his anxiety and dragged his mind into focus as he demanded details from Lestrade. The streets of London looked like a warzone, a thick coat of concrete dust covered every surface and dozens of small fires had broken out. People were milling around in the street and on the sidewalks, all of Scotland yard was out trying to establish some form of order in the panicked crowds and Sherlock felt a curious sense of disassociation, as if his London had been transported somewhere else and had been replaced with this scene straight from a war documentary. When Lestrade stopped at a collapsed building that fire crews were struggling to extinguish he snapped out of his daze and got to work.


	3. Chapter 3

John rubbed at the pain in his lower back absently while he sipped a cold cup of tea, he'd been going nonstop for 6 hours after the explosions. His phone went off occasionally and he always checked it hoping that it was Lyssa or Rosie, so far it had only been Sherlock with updates about the bombing. Six bombs had been planted at six different landmarks around London, The London Eye, St Pauls Cathedral, Kensington Palace, two in Hyde Park and one in Trafalgar Square. They weren't huge bombs but the loss of life was being totalled into the thousands and for sheer destruction they were well chosen targets though only one blast had been strong enough to damage underground infrastructure. One train had reported damage but no one aboard had been hurt beyond minor contusions.

Now six hours after the explosion the wounded were almost all handled, the dead were another matter and every hospital in London had more than their fair share of corpses to identify, Sherlock had told him the British government was considering reaching out to other countries for assistance in making the identifications otherwise it could very well take years. The Hospital Administrator saw him sipping his cold tea. "John, we've got it from here, go home."

John hesitated and the Administrator gave him a sympathetic look. "If Lyssa or Rosie turns up we'll call I promise but you need to sleep, it's going to be a bad week."

John had refused to think about Lyssa and Rosie being amongst the dead who were still being brought into the morgue, they were stacked on gurneys and the floor like fucking firewood and he couldn't stand the thought of his girls being dead. He took a quick detour down to the morgue and Molly looked up anxiously when she saw him. "I've checked all of them John, they aren't down here." She looked close to tears.

John patted her back. "It's ok Molly, we'll find them. How are you holding up?"

She took a shaky breath and looked around at the bodies covered with plastic sheeting from a nearby hardware store. "It's just so awful." She made a vague motion at the room at large.

"I know. You should go home, get some sleep." John's eyes felt gritty with exhaustion but he knew he wouldn't be sleeping at all either.

He left Molly and walked out of the hospital checking his phone, his battery was low but he had a new message from Sherlock. _Back at home, need your help. SH_

John looked around for a cab but with everything going as it was he knew he wouldn't be able to find one, a police car pulled up and Lestrade rolled down the window. "I'm supposed to take you home. We're leaving a patrol car with you two until things calm down a bit, all the cabs have been pulled off the street."

John slid into the car and belted in. Lestrade looked grey faced with exhaustion and worry. "How's Sherlock?" John asked.

"Manic. We've been to every bomb site and he was all over the place as usual. He's got access to everything, Mycroft showed up at the third scene and gave him a huge file, they got into some kind of row and then Mycroft was gone." Lestrade replied.

John could guess what they'd fought about. Sherlock wanted to go looking for Lyssa and Rosie and Mycroft had been his usual thick self. John didn't mind Mycroft and on a few occasions Lyssa had managed to put the insufferable git in his place but right now all he wanted was to hold them both close and know they were safe. "Did you pick them up on CCTV?"

Lestrade hesitated and John looked over at him sharply. "Greg?"

"CCTV was hacked." Lestrade said quietly. "We don't know how they got in, it's on an Intranet, totally separate system isolated from the internet to prevent hacking but the whole system went down. We tracked the girls from the School at 2:30pm to Cafe Barberry where they had lunch but at 3pm the whole system went down and we don't know where they are now."

John felt his stomach clench painfully. Cafe Barberry was where Lyssa and Rosie ate lunch every Thursday, sort of a mom and daughter date before Rosie and Sherlock had their lesson at St Barts. They could be anywhere in the twenty two blocks between the cafe and the Hospital, that was a huge amount of ground to cover. They pulled up to the flat and John got out feeling numb. He didn't even notice Lestrade pull away from the curb.

Lyssa coughed and fanned her face with with the dayplanner, the air was stuffy and hot in the subway car. She checked the time on her phone, she'd turned off all nonessential features to save on battery power and had done the same for Rosie's phone just in case. They had been down there for six hours and everyone was getting restless, there had already been two fist fights, three shouting matches and one woman had passed out. Lyssa had checked her over and figured it was probably just stress. They'd tried getting out of the car a handful of times but the doors were jammed probably due to structural buckling when more rock had fallen in on top of the car. She glanced at the windows wondering if they should try to break one just to let in some air but she vaguely remembered that the air might be contaminated from a broken gas line.

"Mom, I'm hungry." Rosie said softly and Lyssa felt her own stomach grumble.

"Yeah me too honey. We'll be ok."

"Stop telling her that!" A woman said hysterically. "We have been down here for six hours! What if they don't know we're down here? We're going to de down here!"

Lyssa stood up slowly hands up placatingly. "Ma'am please, you need to stay calm. This is London after all, there's a camera on every corner and in every tube station, they're going to notice when a whole car doesn't come out. They are probably already trying to dig us out but there's a lot of rock out there."

"Oh shut up! You're an American, what would you know?!" The woman screamed.

There was a murmur of assent and Lyssa felt the mood of the car getting ugly. A big man stood up. "We're gonna have to save ourselves. If we can't open the doors let's break a window."

"No wait! What if there's a broken gas line out there?" Lyssa said raising her voice. "We'll suffocate."

A hand struck her across the face and someone hit her in the gut knocking her down. She curled into a ball but no further blows came, instead she heard breaking glass and several rocks rattled into the cabin. She sat up trying to catch her breath and saw several of the men prying rocks out of the tightly packed mass, Rosie yelled something but they ignored her. "Mom! They're going to cause a rockslide, the only thing keeping the rocks out there is gravitational pressure."

Lyssa could hear stones shifting and fear flooded her. "Stop! Stop you're going to flood the cabin with rocks!"

"Shut it!" Someone snapped at her. "We're getting the fuck out of here!"

Lyssa heard a grinding noise and grabbing Rosie she pulled her further away from the broken window. She caught sight of their phones on the floor where they'd fallen out of her pocket, she started to go for them when she heard the tightly packed stones give way and she threw herself over Rosie as rocks and loose earth poured into the cabin covering the men directly in front of the broken window. She heard screaming and felt a handful of stones strike her back and shoulders. The rocks finally settled and she turned to look coughing as dust coated everything, the rocks and earth had poured into the cabin filing roughly half the space, anyone right in front of the window was crushed, a few others had taken her example and moved away from the windows. She heard the metal of the cabin groan as rock settled again and she turned to check on Rose whose face was milk pale, her large blue eyes looked even bigger in her dusty face.

"Mom?" She asked in a high terrified voice.

"We're ok honey. We're ok." She held Rosie close and closed her eyes. 'God please let us be ok.' She thought. 'Where are you Sherlock, John, please be ok, please come find us.'


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock had pinned so many photographs on the wall along with maps, seemingly random news clippings and odd bits of paper John just knew they were going to have to take down the wall paper and re spackle the drywall just to make the walls look presentable again. He wondered what Lyssa would think and had to half smile. She had made noises about redoing the paper a few months back after a tube of some chemical or other had started making the paper in Sherlock's kitchen start peeling off the wall in long strips. Sherlock was standing in the center of the sitting room a long length of red twine in his fingers with a lost look on his face. He was staring at a picture Lyssa had framed, it was of all of them sitting around the kitchen table playing cluedo. John remembered that game, he'd won for a change.

"Sherlock…" John cleared his throat.

"They were somewhere between Cafe Barberry and St Barts when the bombs went off…" Sherlock said softly.

John nodded and approached his best friend, hell more than that if he was honest with himself. "I've checked all the hospitals and… Morgues… they haven't turned up."

Sherlock looked at John his sharp blue eyes focusing and John wanted to back away at the sudden heat and intensity in the gaze then his friends face softened and he looked lost again. "I can't focus." He whispered. "I know they're out there somewhere and I can't focus on the case until I know where."

John nodded. "Let me make a cuppa and we'll find them."

Sherlock nodded and followed him into the Food Kitchen. John checked the electric kettle, Lyssa had just started brewing tea in large batches and leaving it in the electric kettle so all they had to do was push the button and within a minute they had hot tea. He poured out two cups, fix them the way they prefered and they sat at the table."Alright," John said when they'd drunk. "Lyssa always picks Rosie up at 2:20 on thursdays, by 2:30 they are at the cafe. By 2:55 they are on their way to St Barts. Greg said the CCTV was hacked."

Sherlock nodded focusing his long fingers tapping softly against the table as he ran through the details. "The Bomber managed to penetrate the intranet and shut them down. We know Lyssa has a number of prefered transportation methods, she takes a cab 35% of the time, the Tube 42%, is picked up by one of the police or Molly or another friend 11% and walks the remaining 12%." Sherlock steepled his fingers.

John hummed thoughtfully. "She might have walked, it was a brisk day, the kind she likes for lengthy walks."

"Unlikely, our lesson was at 3:15pm. She likes to be early for any appointment, even one so long established as this. She would need faster transport."

"And since no one we know picked her up that leaves cabs or the tube." John finished.

"Quite." Sherlock stood up and paced.

"Why don't we try pinging her cell? It's got GPS." John suggested.

Sherlock shook his head. "I tried when I reached the flat, either the phone was destroyed or someone took the chip out. Rosies phone as well which makes sense, a blast such as the six today would be enough to damage the devices irreparably."

"Has your homeless network turned anything up?" John asked hopefully.

"Many of them are dead as a result of the explosions, the rest have gone frustratingly into hiding." Sherlock flopped gracelessly back into the chair and drummed a rhythm on the tabletop.

"So tube or cab…" John hummed again.

"None of the trains reported serious injuries and no one saw anyone matching Lyssa's description exiting the tube station." Sherlock replied.

"And they'd recognize her, she was on the cover of the Star last week with that new dye job." John said with a little sigh, Lyssa had kept her habit of dying her hair every unnatural shade imaginable though she'd stopped getting new tattoos. John was secretly grateful for that, she was running out of skin to decorate and he wasn't keen on tattoos in the more intimate regions of her now rare bare skin.

The phone rang and Sherlock snatched it up then discarded it not recognizing the number. John answered it. "I'm looking for Mr Holmes." The speaker was male and a little nervous if his quavering voice was any hint.

"He's busy at present." John replied feeling annoyed, now was not a good time for a new case.

"Oh… um well...you see…" John struggled not to snap at the caller.

"Sir, we're in a bit of a crisis right now. I need you to take a deep breath and speak quickly and clearly." He'd slipped into his Captain voice and it seemed to do the trick.

"Right, sorry it's just that I work for the Subway yard. It's my job to fix up the cars and well sir, there's a lot of them in bad shape from the blast, it collapsed some of the tunnels you see." John had the feeling that this was something Sherlock needed to hear and put the man on speaker phone.

"I was counting up the cars for repairs you see and well there's one missing and I thought to myself that in one of the cases Mr. Holmes solved there was a missing car too and it was part of a bomb. I'm a big fan of the blog you see and I read every entry and I thought to myself what if that's what happened this time? What if the bomber used a subway car as a bomb and that's why there's one missing."

Sherlock was staring at the phone as if it had grown legs and started scuttling around on the table. "All of the bombings happened above ground, if you had been paying attention you'd have seen something so obvious."

"Oh… well then… I'm sorry to waste your time then…" He trailed off and John took him off speakerphone and started making their goodbyes when Sherlock's eyes fastened on the phone again, realization dawning on his face and John knew he was mentally tracking something.

"That train car! It was on the 272 Westbound Route, six stops between Westminster and St Barts; always runs two minutes behind, the conductor does it to give himself time to sober up for the end of his shift report." Sherlock waved his hands in the air tracing an invisible map in the air.

"It runs parallel to Hyde park for 3 minutes 26 seconds. John they took the Tube!" He snatched the phone from John, "Incidentally you should see a psychotherapist for anxiety and a Doctor for the hypertension and stop eating greasy burgers. Not my Doctor though, he's very busy." He hung up and started scrolling through his contacts.

John felt a rush of fondness for Sherlock, even with Lyssa's mellowing effect on the man he was still a rude berk with no patience. He held the phone to his ear then barked into the phone. "Lestrade the girls are in a damaged section of the Tube parallel to Hyde park, Tube line 272." He hung up and ran for the door pausing only long enough to grab hs Belstaff and scarf yanking them on as he careened down the stairs John hot on his heels.

True to Lestrade's word there was a patrol car with a cop inside at the curb. Sherlock and John threw themselves in and gave breathless instructions. The officer turned on the siren and drove through a city that was practically deserted. Lestrade met them at the Hyde Park Tube station and they clattered down the now still escalator. "They shut down the power to this bit." Lestrade said and hefted a huge halogen torch, the impossibly bright beam cutting through darkness so deep it was like walking around in an inkwell.

Sherlock took off down the Tunnel to the left towards St Barts running at full tilt heedless of any obstacles and John kept pace with him Lestrade lighting their way from the rear with several other police officers in pursuit. They had to slow to conserve energy and breath when the ruins of the Train Car didn't appear after a 10 minute sprint, Sherlock kept up a brutally brisk pace with John beside him and within half an hour they came upon the tunnel collapse. It was floor to ceiling, tightly compacted rubble filled the space and they both knew it was going to take time to get through it. Lestrade radioed another team to approach from the opposite train station then called the Subway system and told them they needed a Subway Collapse team. Sherlock moved towards the wall of rubble and started yanking stones loose but Lestrade grabbed him. "If you do that the whole thing could go!"

Sherlock was breathing hard and looked half mad. John took his arm and led him back a few feet, Sherlock was muttering and John managed to catch a series of statistics. "46% of collapses not resolved in 8 hours lead to total loss of injured parties… been… hours…"

John shook him gently and Sherlock focused on him. "Stop that. We have no idea what we'll find on the other side of the collapse. They could be perfectly fine, trapped in the car, but fine."

Sherlock glanced at the wall of rubble again and John gave him another little shake. "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater until we know for sure."

Sherlock clamped his jaws together to stop the angry and frankly unfair retorts that filled his mouth like bitter ash, John's face was a mask of hope and fear and belief that the girls were just fine, only unable to get through the rubble that blocked the tunnel. Lestrade's radio went off and the voice of the second team crackled through. "This end is collapsed too, looks like this whole section just fell in."

John felt his knees go weak but he rallied and kept looking up at Sherlock whose face was a mask of fear and worry. John squeezed his arms. "Put it on a shelf Sherlock. Tell me about the Bomber."

Sherlock frowned but he understood what John was asking him to do, his emotions, his dangerous sentimentality regarding John, Lyssa and Rosie was making him behave like a goldfish and that would not do. He took a few minutes to center himself and scooped all the worry, the fear, the anger into a metal case which he locked and ruthlessly shoved into a locker in his mind palace. He slammed that door shut and left it there focusing only on the details of the case. He didn't realize he was talking aloud until John asked him a question.

Lyssa's head pounded like someone was beating on it with a hammer. Black streamers flickered in the edges of her vision and she was doing her best to just stay conscious. The smaller space had less oxygen and she knew it was only a matter of time before they suffocated. She was shivering in little bursts as her body tried to squeeze every molecule of oxygen out of the stifling air. They were near the broken window with its heavy mound of rubble. Lyssa was hoping that even a small amount of air was seeping through the packed rubble. She glanced around breathing slowly and shallowly at the other survivors who looked every bit as suffocated and miserable as she was. Most of them were unconscious, Rosie had passed out an hour ago and Lyssa was holding her cradled against her chest the way she had when they had first met all those years ago.

She felt her eyes prickle with tears but refused to give in to the urge to have hysterics, all that would do was sap their limited air. ' _We're going to die down here, we're going to run out of air and…'_ She shook her head trying to dispel that thought. ' _They'll find us, they have to, they'll find us.'_

She blinked rapidly but all that did was make her long to close her eyes and let the blackness at the edges of her vision engulf her so she opened them wide and tried to see how long she could hold them open. Another passenger sagged against the floor, finally succumbing and passing out. That left her and a tired looking young man in a Letter Jacket conscious. She tried to focus, to put the skills Sherlock had been teaching her into practice. ' _Not his Jacket.'_ She deduced.

' _Why not?'_ Sherlocks voice was so clear in her mind that she glanced up and thought she could just see him sitting beside it in the faint red glow of the emergency lighting.

' _It's too big for him by two sizes, if it were his it would fit better. See how it's too long in the sleeves, if it were his it would fit better, he'd be too proud of it to not get the right size. He's trying to impress someone.'_

' _Really?'_ Sherlocks voice was dry and carried a hint of condescension, it only sounded like that when she was wrong about a deduction, she looked back and thought about it.

' _No, he's borrowed the coat to fool someone, he's lied about who he is and what he does at school and now he has to prove it. Not a bully… friend? No… parent or other family member.'_

She was gasping by now her chest rising and falling in little jerks, the young man had passed out too. ' _What else?'_ The Sherlock hallucination prompted.

' _He… the family member is important enough to want to impress.. Grandfather… parent would know… grandparent who doesn't… visit often... manly man… He disapproved of… the kid not playing sports…' The blackness was filling her vision._

' _Very good, tell me one more thing about the kid and you can sleep.'_ She swore she could feel the Sherlock hallucinations hand on hers.

' _He's a violinist… or cellist….'_ She was sliding sideways. ' _Plays left handed… calluses…'_ Her vision went and she slipped out of consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey all! I gotta say I am having so much fun writing this one. I am about to start the Convention Season in the next week though which means I am at a Con every weekend (I vend) which means updates may be a bit sporadic or there may be a whole bunch of updates all at once then nothing for a few days so please be patient and bear with me! As always Reviewers get good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

By the time the rubble was finally cleared John was as tightly wound as Sherlock. They helped clear the rubble from around the rear door and after several frustrating minutes managed to pry the door open. John coughed at the wave of stale air that reeked of death, his heart thudded painfully as they crawled into the train car, bodies lay on the floor and John started checking pulses. "Sherlock! some of these are still alive."

Sherlock ignored him as he moved further into the car. Lestrade patted John's shoulder. "Don't worry about it mate, we have medics waiting, I've already called them down, go find your girls."

John followed after Sherlock and they found Lyssa and Rosie lying curled on the floor near a broken window that was tightly packed with rubble. John dropped to his knees picking Rosie up and checking her pulse. "She surmised that there might be air seepage by the broken window." Sherlock said kneeling down and checking Lyssa's pulse. Both pulses were weak and Sherlock slid his arm under her legs and behind her shoulders lifting her up. She stirred a little her eyes flickering open but there couldn't seem to focus. "The kid… he's a cellist… his fingers…"

She went limp again and Sherlock looked around, he spotted the kid she'd been talking about and a quick glance at his fingers confirmed her deduction, his blue lips and glazed eyes though told Sherlock that the poor boy would never play anything ever again. "I'm sorry Lyssa, he _was_ a cellist."

They got the girls out into the open tunnel to the waiting medics who immediately placed oxygen masks over their faces and lay them out on gurneys. They were only barely strapped down when the medics started running them out of the tunnel to the waiting ambulances John and Sherlock following behind.

John sat beside Rosie's bed holding her hand feeling guilty that he wasn't in Lyssa's room holding her hand too, in Lyssa's room Sherlock was doing the same. The girls were suffering from hypoxia, the first doctor who had examined them had told them that they should prepare themselves for the very real possibility of brain damage, Sherlock had tried to through the poor man through the window. After that John was the only one the Doctors would talk to, both girls were extremely lucky to be alive, three other passengers from the train car had died of hypoxia on their way to the hospital and of the remaining four two were clinically brain dead.

A nurse had come to tell them that visiting hours were over but neither man had listened and a hospital administrator had told the rest of the staff that they were permitted to stay as long as they wanted, Sherlock assumed Mycroft had interceded, he had his phone out and was reviewing his initial deductions when Lestrade tapped on the door and entered. "I went to your flat and took pictures of the walls like you asked. Lyssa is going to murder you when she sees all those holes."

Sherlock held a hand out for the photos and Lestrade handed him the packet of high definition close ups. "So long as she wakes."

Lestrade nodded. "She will, both of them will."

Sherlock was already spreading the photos on the floor and on the bed across Lyssa's legs when Lestrade left the room and went across the hall to see John. "Please tell me you are at least going to get some food and sleep, he's going to be up for God only knows how lo…"

John turned and held a hand up quieting him, Rosie was curled up in his lap, the oxygen cannula still in place but her eyes fluttered open tiredly then drifted closed again. A tightness in Lestrade's shoulders eased just knowing that Rosie was regaining consciousness.

He backed out of the room and closed the door quietly while John leaned back in the chair dragging the blanket over himself and his daughter stroking her honey blond hair. He went back to Lyssa's room. "Sherlock, Rosie's started coming around."

Sherlock looked up from one of the photos and a faint smile curved the corners of his mouth before his eyes slid back to the photos. Lestrade shook his head in mild consternation but was immensely relieved that Sherlock was on the case.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey! Thanks for reading, you guys are amazing, I feel so loved! I know I'm a little slow on the action right now but I promise it's coming soon! For now enjoys some domestic bliss...? Yeah bliss that's what I'm going with. Very Very faint hints of Johnlock if you squint hard. Reviewers will be rewarded with good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

Except even with Sherlock on the case he was still going nowhere fast. The bombs had destroyed a lot of crucial evidence, the fire crews had wahed any further evidence away and the lack of CCTV footage made narrowing down a suspect pool virtually impossible. There had been no threats made, no one came forward to claim responsibility and even the prodigious file of information provided by Mycroft barely contained any salient information. Sherlock stared around the walls of their flat at the papers pinned to the surfaces. "Informational detritus, utter refuse." He growled under his breath four days after the bombings.

The city was barely starting to recover, the rubble was being cleared and the subways and cabs were running again. He glanced at the wall clock, John would be home in 15 minutes with Rosie, she'd been released from the hospital now that her oxygen levels ad returned to normal and her brain scans were good. They'd given her dozens of cognitive evaluations and Sherlock had performed his own and was satisfied that there was very little in the way of lingering damage from the hypoxia, she didn't remember very much of what happened after the men broke the window of the train car but neither he nor John was worried about that. What they were worried about was the fact that Lyssa still hadn't come around.

Sherlock had overheard that there had been a broken gas pipe in the Subway line and that the gas must have been seeping into the cabin from the broken window. In trying to give herself and Rose a better chance at surviving she had managed to injure herself further. The Doctors had told John that Rosie had inhales less of the gas when she lost consciousness and Lyssa had laid her down on the floor away from the seepage but she herself had remained in the worst of it.

Sherlock glanced at the clock again and started pulling down the papers laying them all face down on the table to return to Mycroft, they were worthless and he didn't want Rosie seeing them. He was just jamming them all back in the large manila envelope when the door opened and Rosie ran in, he managed to get a smile on his face and hugged her. "I am so glad you're home." He murmured in her ear.

John closed the door and dropped a pile of mail on the side table. "The Schools will all be open again tomorrow." He announced and Sherlock tensed.

"Indeed, good for them. He muttered acerbically.

"We need to go speak to her Advocate, we were supposed to do that earlier but…" John trailed off.

"Right, we can inform them that were pulling her from the roster." Sherlock said briskly standing and resumed cramming papers into the envelope.

"I don't want to be homeschooled." Rosie informed him brusquely.

"Rosie…" John started but Sherlock held a hand up and motioned him over.

"Tea first and we'll discuss this in the kitchen." Sherlock said.

It was a rule they'd established almost a year ago when Sherlock had repeatedly missed important family discussions even though his body was perfectly present. He'd been in his Mind Palace and hadn't heard a word that was said even though John had reported that he'd made all the obligatory affirmative or negative noises. They had genuinely thought he'd been paying attention and a new rule that all discussions from then on had to be made at the kitchen table with tea after Sherlock had given them concrete confirmation that he was in fact mentally present. He'd thought it was patently ridiculous but after a few discussions he was loath to admit it was necessary.

John made tea and they settled into their chairs, after a few sips John sighed. "Alright Sherlock, why do you want to Homeschool Rosie?"

He wasn't even going to ask how Rosie knew Sherlock wanted to homeschool her, they'd discussed it often enough and Rosie was getting very good at overhearing things she shouldn't. "The current standard of education at publicly accessible schools in London is appalling, that's why." Sherlock replied shortly his fingers running around and around the rim of the cup. "I have said that before if you can bestir yourself to recall. She would receive a much better education at home under my tutelage."

John bit back a sarcastic comment and inclined his head. "Ok Rosie, why don't you want to be homeschooled?"

They watched Rosie gather her thoughts, she really did try to be as mature as Sherlock expected someone of her intelligence to be. "I don't think I'd get the most rounded education at home." She said calmly.

"Nonsense, I am proficient if not excellent at every subject that a student in primary and middle school could reasonably be expected to learn, exemplary if the current curriculums for your age groups are to be believed, really, you're only just starting division in your current grade and your schools grasp on the sciences is appalling." Sherlock interjected.

Rosie scowled and crossed her arms. "What about PE? Or Home Economics or the solar system?"

John had to stifle a chuckle at that, Lyssa had laughed until her sides ached when she found out Sherlock only barely had a basic understanding of astronomy during a field trip to the Observatory with Rosie. "Yes Sherlock, what about those subjects?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Lyssa is more than apt to teach Home Economics, she manages ours very well after all."

Rosies face sobered and she bit her lower lips. "She used to..." She whispered and John reached over resting a hand on her shoulder, Sherlock looked a little stricken and he mirrored John. "Oh Rosie, Lyssa's coming home of course." John tried to reassure her but she gave him a scowl so fierce it reminded him of some of Sherlock's early scowls back when they had first become flatmates.

"You can't know that! She hasn't woken up and she might never get to come home and you want to take me out of school! I like school and all my friends are there!" She was shouting and looked close to tears.

John let his hand drop but Sherlock held on. "Rosie your friends are a fleeting thing at this age. You can and will make new friends, it is your education that matters right now and you are not receiving the best education at that school. If you don't wish to be homeschooled we can find a school that is better…" He didn't get to finish, Rosie jumped up out of her chair making it clatter to the floor on its side.

"You don't get it Sherlock, you just don't. I won't change schools, I like my school. If Lyssa were here she'd understand." She stomped off to her room slamming the door and they heard the lock snap home.

John stared after her then at Sherlock who's face had gone totally still, his whole body had for that matter and John wasn't totally sure he was breathing. He was stunned himself, Rosie had only had a handful of tantrums since she'd left her toddler years behind and she never called Sherlock by his name. He swallowed and ran a hand over his face, Sherlock finally stirred and stood slowly his face still impassive but John knew that face, it was the one he wore when he and Lyssa had a row, or when he and John had one. It was the face he'd worn the very last time Sally Donovan had called him a freak, that had been in Rosie's hearing when she was just three and Rosie had repeated it not knowing better, Lyssa had heard it and had very firmly yanked Sally out of the flat and down the stairs where she dressed the woman down in tones that brooked absolutely no argument. Sally had never again called Sherlock a freak, at least not in any of their hearing and John was so grateful that for once Sally had listened. It was Sherlock's hurt face and John hated seeing it, especially when it was so rare now.

"I need to take these to Mycroft." Sherlock said just above a whisper.

John stood and took him gently by the arm. "You know she didn't mean it Sherlock. She's eight and things are happening very fast."

Sherlock didn't look at him and John felt his heart stutter a little, Sherlock was very hurt. "I understand why she said them John." The words were so reasonable, so calm but John knew there was a tempest going on under the calm.

He tried to turn Sherlock but he wasn't budging, so like many times before John moved, that was his strength, he yielded when the other two were just too stubborn to give an inch, he moved around and looked up into his friend's face. "She loves you, you know that, you are her father, every bit as much as I am and she loves you. She also loves Lyssa, who is her mother in every way but birth and eventually Rosie will say something just as hurtful to Lyssa because that's what angry kids do when they think they've run out of options."

Sherlock's eyes glinted a little and John wondered if he'd imagined the ghost of a smile. "She'll say something hurtful to me too someday and it'll break my heart but we're her parents, it comes with the job but she'll never stop loving us and you'll never stop loving her either yeah?"

Sherlock took a deep breath and a corner of his mouth quirked. "Never."

"Right. Because she's our daughter, mine, yours and Lyssa's and that won't ever change. Let her get this strop out of her system and we'll try again."

"You would be the one with experience in that area." Sherlock pointed out wryly and John was glad to feel the tension easing out of Sherlock.

"Oh no one will ever match you in the Sulks Department." John assured him and without really thinking about it he slid his arms around Sherlock's waist and gave him a light squeeze before they both froze.

It was a Lyssa gesture, she was small enough that she could do that with both of them, granted with John it was closer to under his arms than around his waist. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and gave a tentative squeeze before they stepped back a little pink in the cheeks. Neither of them was shy with physical affection to Lyssa but with one another it was mostly unheard of, even if they were very fond of one another. Sherlock cleared his throat. "I do need to get these back to Mycroft. I will return later."

John nodded. "I'll handle things here."

Sherlock donned his coat and his scarf glancing at the smaller nearly identical one Lyssa had made for Rosie and file in hand he swept down the stairs. His feelings were still a little hurt but rationally he understood Rosie's outburst. ' _How would Lyssa have handled that?'_ He wondered absently and on the heels of that thought. ' _Will she ever handle anything again?'_

He crushed that thought ruthlessly, desperately deleting it from his hard drive, she would wake, she had to wake. Anything to the contrary didn't bear thinking on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! I'm working my way towards the real mystery of this story. Who oh who is wreaking havoc on London? As always reviewers get Good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

John listened to Sherlock tramp down the stairs and sighed running a hand over his face, he glanced at the door to his daughter's room and wondered if he should try talking to her, he eventually decided against it, she shared Sherlock's penchant for the dramatic and would eventually come out of it on her own. He flicked on the telly for background noise and went into the laundry cupboard. Lyssa had left the laundry in the dryer and he knew that even though it would be hopelessly wrinkled he still needed to get it folded. He was mindlessly folding the laundry, not really focusing on anything while he tried to sooth away his anxieties over Lyssa and Rosie and Sherlock with mindless meanialities. "We are live at the London Museum where there is a gas attack currently in progress, this attack comes less than a week after a brutal bombing destroyed six national monuments and killed thousands of people. We are receiving reports that there are similar attacks happening at three other museums around London and we can only speculate as to the motive of whomever is terrorizing London. The British Government has declined to comment at this time."

John stood staring at the television the shirt in his hands forgotten. His phone began to ring and he scrambled it out of his pocket recognizing the number for St. Barts. "Damn." He muttered and answered.

"Dr Watson I know this is poor timing but we are rather desperate. It's the bombing all over again." The Administrator said apologetically.

"No I understand, let me get my daughter and I'll be there as soon as I can." John said and hung up.

He tapped on Rosies door and she opened it, her face was all set to be angry but when she saw his face she closed her mouth. "Something's happened." She said softly.

"Yes, We need to go back to the hospital, there's been a gas attack and I'm needed at A&E." John grabbed her backpack. "Grab some books and anything else you need to stay entertained for a while. I'm afraid you have to come with me."

Rosie started pushing book into her pack and grabbed a sweater. "I'll sit in with Lssa." She said reasonably.

He gave a small smile and kissed the top of her head as she passed by him. "She'd like that."

Sherlock stared through the lenses of the gas mask at the carnage surrounding him at the London Museum. Bodies lay where they had dropped around exhibits, his mind whirled madly as he deduced their lives, their secrets and their deaths. They didn't even know they were in danger, the gas had seeped up through the floor vents from a central point in the buildings HVAC systems, when the first bodies had fallen others had panicked and run for the exits. Those closest to the doors managed to get out of the building and had collapsed in a faint. He knew that John would have been called to help deal with the influx of patients, especially with the other two museums having been attacked as well.

He glanced down at the closest body and felt like he couldn't breath, it was a small girl, about six years old. Her hair was in twin braids and for a minute he saw Rosie even though there was no resemblance. This child was black, her hair shorter than Rosies and her staring dead eyes a deep chocolate brown. He winced and backed away from the body looking around, crime scene techs were gathering evidence, paramedics were covering bodies and Lestrade, wearing a gas mask that matched his own was taking a statement from a nearly hysterical docent also in a gas mask. He strode over to the pair. "The CCTV here was compromised as well and whomever introduced the gas is extremely forensically sophisticated. There is no evidence left behind, this alone narrows the field. There are very very few people who are so inclined, do you require me here?"

Lestrade tilted his head back a little so he could see Sherlock clearly through the glass lenses. "You aren't holding out on me are you?"

Sherlock made a rude noise and Lestrade sighed loud enough to be heard through the mask. "Fine, fine. Call me when you have something."

Sherlock swept out of the Museum and ripped the mask off as soon as he passed the police barricade, he dropped it in the box next to a police car and raised his arm to hail a cab. A sleek black car pulled up to the curb and Sherlock groaned, he started walking trying to get the attention of the cabs as they rushed back and forth in the busy streets but they steadfastly ignored him and he finally opened the door to the sleek black Rolls Royce and slid into the plush interior. "I have already endured an hour of your time Mycroft, is that not pain enough for us both?" He drawled.

"Hardly the greatest pain we have ever endured, you do recall Easter Dinner 1997?" Mycroft replied in a bored tone.

Sherlock shuddered and propped his arm on the armrest settling his chin in his hand, Mycroft watched him for several minutes while they drove. "I trust I needn't tell you this is of the highest priority."

"And yet that is precisely what you have done." Sherlock retorted his eyes never leaving the window, the damaged buildings and lingering traces of blasted concrete were hateful to him, he loved London, loved it a surely as he loved his strange little family and he was furious that someone would attack his home.

"It may be prudent for you to distance yourself from your…. Family…" Mycroft started and was very proud of himself for not flinching at the bitterly cold and righteously angry look his brother leveled on him, he was used to his brothers hot passions, his torrid temper tantrums and his indignant sulks but this was new and as an unknown quantity it was terrifying to someone who spent his time knowing everything.

"Caring is not an advantage." He said a little weakly.

"Perhaps it is not an advantage for you brother. Perhaps for a man who has spent his entire life maneuvering and scheming to attain a position in the Government that he can never admit publicly to holding, caring is a danger. However just because you choose to live a life of echoing and desperate emptiness and crippling solitude does not mean you are better off or in any way superior to the small comforts afforded by my 'little Family.' I will choose my family and the fulfillment, however illogical, that John, Rosie and Lyssa offer me on a daily basis. Their very existence within my view quiets my mind and sharpens my focus and I will thank you to desist your feeble attempts to inflict your own sense of ennui onto my life." Sherlock's voice was low and almost without inflection however his eyes all but glowed with emotion.

They rode in silence for several minutes. Sherlock had gone back to staring out the window while Mycroft reflected on the changes in his little brother. He eventually cleared his throat and Sherlock looked back over at him. "I have taken the liberty of compiling a file on everyone currently in country who would be capable of orchestrating these attacks. Do try not to get killed, I do not relish the idea of explaining your death to John."

Sherlock smirked and huffed a small laugh. "Of the two Lyssa would be the more likely to take a swing at you, John still respects the government, Lyssa has an Americans disdain for it."

Mycroft hesitated and saw Sherlock's realization, that Lyssa might not recover to take a swing at him and for a wonder it made him want to comfort his brother. "I can have a specialist review her case."

Sherlock cleared his throat looking back out the window. "I would appreciate that."

The car pulled up outside St Barts and Sherlock opened the door. "One thing Mycroft, does your file speculate as to a motive for these attacks?"

"There are one or two viable speculations in the file. They have been delivered to your home and secured in the usual place." Mycroft replied.

Sherlock nodded. "I trust they found the present Lyssa left?"

Mycroft gave a rare genuine smile. "She is a remarkable woman, I never would have expected her to make such fluffy nougat. My men compete for the privilege of leaving files for you."

Sherlock grinned, Lyssa had started leaving little snacks and candies for the men who repeatedly infiltrated their home to leave confidential files for Sherlock. In return they had stopped tracking mud across the floors and had started taking pains to leave everything undisturbed. He shut the door and walked into St Barts heading through the chaos to the elevators and up to Lyssa's room. He peered through the little window and felt his heart twist a little. Rosie was sitting on the bed cuddled against Lyssa's side reading aloud from a book on etymology, Lyssa still lay unresponsive in the bed and after a moment Rosie put the book down and turned to look at Lyssa reaching up to touch Lyssa's limp hair which was dyed a dark green this time. He turned and went in search of a nurse.

A few minutes later he entered the room with a trolley bearing a basin of warm water and several small bottles as well as a clean flannel cloth and some towels. Rosie climbed off the bed and ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry Papa." She said muffled against his stomach and he rested a hand on her head smoothing her hair.

"I am too Rosie. I wasn't taking your needs into consideration. We can discuss all of this later when we're all calmer."

She looked up at him her eyes bright and he saw the face of the deceased child hovering over hers like a ghost, he ran his finger down her nose and chucked her lightly under the chin to dispel the image. "I need your help."

She looked surprised and he smiled gently. "Lyssa needs a bath, we can't take her out of the bed so a sponge bath will have to do, will you help me?"

She smiled back and nodded. "I can help."

Sherlock rolled the trolley over to the bed and they set to work washing Lyssa's arms, chest and hair. Rosie was oddly focused on the simple task and when Sherlock handed her the comb she very carefully combed out Lyssa's wet hair. Sherlock pushed the trolley out into the hall then came back and sat in the chair beside the bed. After a few minutes of silent brushing Rosie set the comb down and climbed into his lap cuddling back against his chest, she wrapped his arms around her waist and sat watching Lyssa. "Papa… will she ever wake up?"

Sherlock felt his chest constrict and cleared his throat. "I don't know Rosie."

They sat in silence watching the monitors, they were still sitting there in silence when John peered through the little window.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys! I'm going to be at another convention this weekend so updates may be sporadic. Thank you all for being so patient with me! I've decided to bring Irene Adler into the picture. I'm sorry if she seems a little OOC but keep in mind she's been gone for several years in this fic. Reviews are rewarded with good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

Irene Adler stepped out of the Sleek silver Rolls Royce she'd hired onto the damaged sidewalk of a London under Siege and gave the concrete dust that still lingered over everything a disgusted look. She hadn't thought to ever return to London after Sherlock had saved her the indignity of being beheaded by a Jihadist, her Deal with Sherlock had been that she would stay out of London, out of England entirely. But after she'd seen the news report about the gas attack she knew he would need her. She was after all not without resources even now. She glanced up at the window but there was no silhouette in the window, no violin music emanated from the flat.

She gave instructions to the driver to park nearby and await further instructions then she stepped smartly into the building and up the stairs. She was a little surprised at the changes to the building but dismissed them as inconsequential, she paused at the door and considered her next move, should she knock and wait or should she simply walk in and see what havoc she could wreak? She smiled, she did so love havoc. She pulled a keyring from her purse and used a Master Key for the locks brand to unlock the door and let herself in only to stop dead in her tracks and stare dumbfounded at the interior.

Instead of the chaotic yet wonderfully eccentric interior with its piles of papers, books littering every surface and tacky wall paper decorated with a bullet hole bedecked smiley face done in outrageous yellow the enlarged flat was decorated in what she could only describe to herself as suburban mundanity done in large scale. He noted the separate kitchens, one that looked as she expected Sherlock's kitchen to look, microscopes, papers and strange liquids in all manner of colors and containers. She took a step towards that comforting familiarity when the rest of the flat caught up to her. Pictures of a girl with honey blond hair and blue eyes with John, with Sherlock, with them both, Toys in a bin, children's books on the side table.

Sherlock or John had a child, it was the only thought that flew through her head when she heard the hammer of a gun click down. "Most clients knock." John's voice rumbled from the stairs to the upper floor.

She turned and enjoyed the total bafflement on his face, he lowered the gun and scowled. "Bloody hell, It's you isn't it? This whole bloody cock up with the bombs and the gas attacks."

She snorted delicately. "Sweet John, still so dense."

He scowled harder but put the gun away. "It's safe Rosie."

The pantry door opened and Irene watched the little girl exit the cupboard closing the door behind her, she moved towards John and Irene found herself searching out Sherlock's features in the child but other than the blue eyes which could just as easily have been Johns she didn't see any of Sherlock in the girl. "You've had a daughter since I saw you last." She commented setting her handbag on the little side table.

"I have." John replied cooley.

"Where's her mother?"

John looked a little uncomfortable but Rosie piped up. "She's at the Hospital, she was hurt in the bombing."

Irene dismissed the information as she sat on the arm of the couch. "And where is Sherlock then?"

John ignored her for a moment to speak to Rosie. "Darling please go start your homework before I start supper."

She pouted but looking between her father and Irene she figured now was not the best time for rebellion. She went to her room and closed the door quietly. Irene gave him a little smile and he frowned at her again. "You know you're going to give yourself a little crease between your eyes looking like that all the time." She said sweetly.

"What are you doing here Irene? Didn't you do enough damage last time?" John was mildly surprised at his anger towards her, it had been years since she'd broken Sherlock's heart but he was still angry over it.

"So touchy. Believe it or not John I am here to help and with another attack imminent I know Sherlock will need it. Now where is he?" Irene watched some though slide across John's face and wondered what could be making him look both pleased and apprehensive at the same time.

"I was visiting our fiancee in the Hospital." Sherlock's baritone said from the doorway.

Irene turned to stare at him. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I think I have jet lag."

Sherlock shut the door and strode across the room to pat John's shoulder and knock on Rosie's door. She opened the door and grinned up at him. "Welcome home Papa!" She held her arms up and he swung her up into an embrace.

"Thank you sweetheart. I wanted to say hello before I get caught up with business. How was school?"

She made a face and Irene couldn't help but stare in consternation at how terribly mundane it all was, so domestic but there was a calmness about Sherlock that hadn't been there before and she couldn't decide if that was a welcome change. Rosie was giving Sherlock a rundown of her day and he listened intently, John moved to stand near Irene. "Whatever your game is Irene, I'd advise you to reconsider."

She turned to stare at him in incredulity. "He's been domesticated. How could you?"

He laughed and Sherlock and Rosie looked over at them, John gave them a reassuring wave and they went back to their discussion of her school day. He faced Irene his blue eyes compassionate and a little sympathetic and she hated him for it. "No one domesticated Sherlock Irene, he's not a wild animal. He's just more at home with himself now that he has people who love him, all of him, with no games."

She felt a little stab of guilt and watched Sherlock set Rosie down kissing the top of her head as the child retreated back to her room, he stalked past Irene to the food kitchen and John followed him patting Sherlock's shoulder as the younger man slumped down into the chair. John turned on the electric kettle and pulled out three cups as Irene sat down cautiously. "Quite a lot of change since I last saw you." She ventured.

"People do that." Sherlock retorted a smile quirking his lips.

"I suppose I should have expected it from someone as mercurial as yourself. Having a fiance is a bit much though."

John set cream and sugar on the table with a little more force than was strictly necessary. "Our domestic arrangements are none of your business." He said waspishly.

"They are if it's dulled your edge." Irene replied acerbically watching Sherlock.

"John is my conductor of light and Lyssa my whetstone. I assume that since you breached our deal and have come all the way from Scandinavia you believe you have something to offer this case." Sherlock nodded his thanks to John when the older man set his cup before him.

"Of course. Just like old times." Irene replied a little smugly.

Sherlock ignored the last and tapped an elegant finger on the cup while John sat and fixed his own tea the way he liked it. "I suppose you could be helpful, or at least your contacts could be."

Irene preened privately. "I suppose your brother has given you files on anyone even remotely capable of this kind of attack. How many have you cut from the running?"

"Six." Sherlock replied.

John sipped his tea but it tasted sour, the longer he sat at the table with The Woman the more he wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. He set his cup down carefully and stood. "Sherlock, I'm going to the pub for a pint."

Sherlock glanced up at him, his pale pale eyes remote and John winced internally, it was Sherlock's look when he didn't want to give an adversary any hint of an advantage. After a moment Sherlock stood. "Excuse us a moment Irene."

Sherlock and John moved to Sherlock bedroom and John reached out and grasped Sherlock's wrist reassured by the steady even pulse, Sherlock dropped the pretense and sagged a little. "I really wish Lyssa were here." He mumbled.

"She would know how to put that insufferable woman in her place wouldn't she?" John gave a wistful smile.

Sherlock cupped his hand over his eyes for a moment. "I need all my focus now John. I must don old habits."

John nodded and hugged Sherlock, it was becoming a comforting habit with Lyssa still unconscious and Sherlock returned the gesture. "You need your armor, I understand. We'll be here when you can take it off again."

Sherlock nodded and stepped back. "Irene holds no sway over me any longer John, never fear. Not with you and Rosie and Lyssa to anchor me."

John nodded feeling better for the reassurance. "I need a pint. I'll bring takeaway back with me."

"Curry please." Sherlock requested and opened the door his eyes going cool and distant again.

John left Sherlock and Irene in the kitchen discussing the case, he tapped on Rosies door and let her know he was out for a pint and would get takeaway for dinner. "Don't disturb Papa and our guest alright?"

Rosie looked up from her homework her face serious. "I don't like her Daddy. She's not a good person."

"I know darling but she can help solve this case. Just bear with us yeah?" John kissed her forehead.

Rosie nodded and turned her attention back to her homework and John left the flat headed for the pub pulling his phone out as he did. If Mycroft didn't know she was back by now he was about to.


	9. Chapter 9

**Lets have a look at Rosies point of view. I am at a convention this weekend so updates may be a bit sporadic! Reviews are rewarded with good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

Rosie closed her maths homework workbook and tapped her pencil against the desk, she'd finished her homework and even skipped ahead in her workbooks just for something to do but Daddy had been gone for almost an hour and she was getting tired of staying in her room. She looked at the clock and sighed, it was almost six and usually by six Lyssa had dinner ready or if she was running behind Papa would sometimes let her help with his experiments. Ever since the bombing though things had been all mixed up and she missed how it had been.

She looked at the door and wrinkled her nose, the new lady made her nervous, she didn't like how the new lady looked at Papa and she'd been really rude to Daddy. After a few minutes she got up from her desk and changed out of her school uniform into a pair of soft leggings and her favorite jumper, she slipped her softest socks on and pulled her hair up into a ponytail the way Lyssa had showed her. She wanted to know what was going on and she was going to have to be really sneaky to find out.

She grabbed her tiny voice recorder, a gift from Lyssa's father Harry for her birthday and turning it on her tucked it into the pocket of her jumper and very carefully opened the bedroom door. She could hear Papa's deep voice, normally that made her feel safe but he sounded weird, like he was far away in his head, the new Lady spoke sharply and it reminded Rosie of one of her teachers just after Lyssa staring dating both Papa and Daddy. She sounded sharp and angry and Rosie crouched down and scooted along the baseboard so she could get closer.

"I find that highly improbable." Papa was saying as she peered around the hall corner checking to see where the adults were. "Considering that he's been in a Saudi Prison for the last three years and would stand out amongst the pale denizens of London with a Middle Eastern tan."

"You have run through and discarded every possibility Sherlock." Irene said with a sigh.

Rosie saw them in the sitting room, Papa was standing facing the window hands steepled under his chin, Irene was sitting in Daddy's chair which annoyed Rosie but it gave her the perfect chance to scoot on her tummy behind the couch without either of them seeing her and she sat between the couch and the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest while she listened and recorded.

"Perhaps your information was faulty." Papa said sourly.

Irene made a rude noise and Rosie heard Daddy's chair creak as she got up, she could hear the heels clicking across the floor to the window. "Now now Sherlock, is this any way to behave after all this time?"

"I find my behavior to be entirely appropriate given the situation." Papa replied waspishly. "None of the individuals you posited as suspects is invisible enough or capable enough of orchestrating the kind of destruction that has been rendered thus far. Come to that none of the suspects my brother has implicated are likely either and as Moriarty is dead it isn't him. We face a new player."

"Hmmmm, so what's the motivation?" Irene asked.

Papa was quiet so long Rosie peeked around the couch and nearly gave herself away when she saw Irene staring up into Papa's face one long fingered hand resting on his cheek, Papa was just staring ahead not looking at her but at a spot on the wall and Rosie felt like kicking the horrible woman. Papa spoke softly but his voice was like ice. "I will thank you to remove you hand Irene. Your attentions are most unwelcome, I am unsure of why you even returned to England after the agreement we came to in Iran, I can only assume you came to try your hand at another seduction after all these years, or perhaps the seduction ha already happened? A high level political maneuver, orchestrated around this time of national crisis. You do so miss England don't you?"

Irene stepped back like he'd been struck and Rosie ducked back behind the couch as Irene strode across the sitting room stopping to grab her purse before she stalked out of the flat closing the door with a snap. Rosie heard Papa sit down in his chair and a shaky breath before he cleared his throat. "Rosie, please come out from behind the couch."

Rosie turned off the recorder and crawled out from behind the couch and walked over to him studying his face. He looked worn out and sad. "Papa?"

Papa reached a long arm out and tugged her closer, he ran a finger along her ponytail and gave her a tiny smile. What did you deduce while you were behind the couch?"

Rosie thought about the exchange. "She came here to trick you. She said she had information but it was all stuff you knew. And you made her sad when you told her to stop touching you."

Papa lifted her up and sat her on the arm of the chair so they were on eye level. "She did try to trick me but Uncle Mycroft already gave me all the information she had." He confirmed.

"She's got a crush on you." Rosie said wrinkling her nose.

"Irene was infatuated with me a long time ago, and I with her but she betrayed me." Papa replied a little sadly. "And she was forced to leave England."

"Will she go away again now that you know she doesn't know anything important?" Rosie asked picking at her jumper.

"I don't know." Papa replied and stared out the window.

"Do you want her to stay?" Rosie knew she sounded very timid and she didn't like it much but she was worried, Lyssa hadn't woken up and she'd overheard a Doctor saying she might never wake up; she didn't want some other woman coming in and acting like her mommy.

Papa tilted her chin up so he could look at her his pale eyes staring into her own. "I do not wish that woman to stay Rosie. She would be a very poor substitute for Lyssa indeed and I'm sure Lyssa would find her presence intolerable. You know how Lyssa dislikes being talked down to."

Rosie giggled remembering how Lyssa had put Uncle Mycroft in his place when he'd been mean to her. Lyssa wasn't smart like Papa or Uncle Mycroft and she wasn't as well educated or traveled as Daddy but Lyssa was strong and brave and kind. She blinked sudden tears away her lips quivering as she looked down. Papa gathered her in close, Rosie wasn't a child usually give to tears but she couldn't seem to stop them. Papa rubbed her back like he had when she was really little and had gotten sick or hurt.

John saw Irene stalking out of the building as he walked up a bag of takeaway in each hand. "Solved it then?" He asked cheekily.

She gave him a haughty look but he'd been Looked At by Mycroft for the last 8 years and he gave her a cheeky smile. She frowned at him. "I do not understand what has happened to him i the last 8 years to so thoroughly domesticate him but it is appalling."

"Mycroft feels the same way if it's any consolation." John replied.

"As it turns out the information at my disposal is unnecessary and unwelcome but I'm sure you'll need my help at some point." She tucked a business card in the takeaway bag and turned on her heel.

He watched her slide into a silver Rolls Royce and pull away. Mycroft had told him that he would have her monitored and he had to be content knowing that she was being watched. It bothered him that they hadn't made any headway on finding a suspect in these attacks, he knew that these attacks were similar to serial killings where the best chance of catching the killer was to wait for him to slip up and make a mistake but it rankled knowing that there would be another attack and that it would cost still more lives.

He walked up the stairs to the flat and opened the door to see Sherlock and Rosie sitting in Sherlock's chair. Rosies face was puffy from crying but she was calm, Sherlock looked worn down and a little hollow eyed himself. ' _Oh Lyssa… we really need you back._ '


	10. Chapter 10

They didn't have to wait long for the next attack, though it was innocuous compared to the previous two attacks. At 2pm the next day every water main in the city burst, the resulting geysers of water blew manhole covers into the air and caused traffic accidents all over the city. John was glad he was already at St Barts when the ambulances started arriving though thankfully the injuries were fairly minor. Sherlock had to go retrieve Rosie from School himself since the buses couldn't run with traffic backed up all over the city. In some areas of the city the water was pooled six inches deep and crews were working frantically to fix the damaged pipes. 'Inconvenient.' He mused to himself as he entered the school.

The receptionist paled a little when he walked in, it was no secret they all prefered it when Lyssa or John picked Rosie up since neither of them had the tendency to deduce their darkest secrets. "Mr. Holmes… where's John?"

He gave her a pitying look. "Got another boyfriend have you Diane? I hope this one isn't dipping into your underpants drawer."

She flushed angrily but clamped her teeth closed and picked up the phone. "Mr. Holmes is here for Rosie." She said into the receiver.

Sherlock's phone pinged and he pulled it out glancing at the screen.

 _Someone slipped up. - Lestrade_

Sherlock felt like someone had laid a live wire on his skin, his breath caught and he typed back furiously.

 _They always do. What have we got? - SH_

Rosie was walking towards him her pack slung over her shoulder but he barely noticed as his phone pinged again.

 _Dead man's ID was used to get into water and sewer, department put up a nanny cam to catch drinkers. Nanny Cam got a pic - Lestrade_

 _At St Agnes Primary, send a car. - SH_

Sherlock's head swam and he realized he was grinning fiercely. Rosie looked up at him her blue eyes searching his face. "Papa? Has something happened?"

Sherlock crouched down and took her little shoulders in his hands. "The best thing Rosie. We have a picture of the bomber."

She gave a little crooked half smile. "Papa, the best thing would be Lyssa waking up. The bomber is second best."

She sounded so much like John just then and it made Sherlock grin wider before he kissed her forehead. "You're absolutely correct, but until she wakes this will have to suffice."

He stood up and took her hand, they walked outside to wait on the steps for Lestrade's car and missed the receptionists look of irritation which was probably for the best.

John caught up to the specialist Mycroft had sent to review Lyssa's tests as she was leaving Lyssa's room. She was a short woman with bright green eyes that seemed to have trouble focusing on any one thing "You must be Dr Watson. I'm Dr Danny Levine." She said and he was surprised at the Australian accent. "I've just been to check on Ms Jones."

He glanced in at Lyssa through the window in the door and nodded. "What do you think?"

"Well I reviewed her intake chart and her initial scans and I want to run some new brain scans. She had a very high build up of Carbon Dioxide and Nitrogen oxide in her system when she came in and she was suffering from natural gas poisoning. Her kidneys are having trouble clearing out the toxins in her system and her liver probably isn't doing well right now either so I'd like to put her on a round of dialysis and maybe some colloidal silver to help strip the toxins from her blood." Dr Levine glanced back into the room for a moment.

John took a deep breath and nodded. "Ok. Whatever needs to happen."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm given to understand you're one of her partners."

He nodded. "Yes."

She patted his arm. "I won't know for sure until I do some new scans but hers is not the worst case I've ever seen. I once had a coma patient who had been comatose for ten years. I determined that she had a buildup of copper in her brain and once we treated that she woke right up."

He felt hope bloom in his chest and gave a shaky smile. "So what should we do first?"

"Let's get her in for a scan first. I'll have a better plan of attack once I see the scan." Dr Levine started down the hall and John followed after her reminding himself to send Mycroft a thank you note.

He may have been a pompous git but occasionally he got something right.

Sherlock refused to leave Rosie alone with Donovan or Anderson when they got to the Station. "She's too impressionable to leave alone with so much stupid. Bad enough she's subjected to it at school every day." He declared as he sailed past them towing Rosie along to Lestrade's office.

"Papa…" Rosie said quietly and he looked down at her and gave a little huff.

"Oh very well. My apologies Donovan, Anderson." He didn't sound apologetic in the least but Rosie kissed the back of his hand.

Donovan and Anderson stared after them mouths gaping open. Lestrade reached over and closed their mouths. "Don't get used to it, he'll only do it if Rosie is present, Lyssa made him promise to be polite if she's around, she doesn't want Rose getting bad habits."

Anderson stared after the unusual pair. "How is Lyssa anyway?"

Lestrade shook his head watching Sherlock get Rosie settled to do her homework at hi desk. "She's still in a coma."

Donovan felt an unexpected pang of sympathy, more for John than Sherlock but it was still there for the lanky git. "She's been so good for them, I really hope she pulls through."

Lestrade nodded then stepped away from them as Sherlock came out of the office closing the door. "Show me the video."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone! I'm back from the con and I had a wonderful time. I'm struggling a little with this story but I'm going somewhere with it I promise! Thank you everyone for reading even when I ramble on! Reviews are rewarded with good karma and kitten kisses!**

Sherlock was all but flying as they walked from the station to St Barts. The video was poor quality but the features were clear and he finally had a face to work with, finally some details, some data! He held Rosie's hand while they walked but in reality Rose was the one keeping Sherlock from straying into oncoming traffic or walking into telephone poles. He was talking a mile a minute and even though Rosie only understood 1 sentence in three she made encouraging noises while she hauled him to a stop or nudged him across the street when the walk light flashed. This was a side of her Papa that she loved. She loved hearing him talk even if she didn't understand what he was talking about and she loved the way his eyes almost glowed with a fierce joy.

They arrived at St Barts and the towering edifice made some of Sherlock's effervescence fade as he recalled why they made daily visits now. Instead of the thrill of a lesson or a body to experiment on it was the heartache of visiting Lyssa as she lay comatose in the hospital bed. He stilled and Rosie felt some of the joy leak away. She looked up at him where he towered over her, her strong, smart, fierce Papa in his long coat and ever present scarf so still as he stared at the building before them as if he never wanted to go in again.

"Maybe she's better today." Rosie said quietly holding his hand as they stood motionless on the sidewalk.

Sherlock took a breath as if he'd forgotten to for a few minutes and looked down at her. He was surprised at how much like John she looked, Her honey blond hair was darkening to her father's light brown and he could see that she was on the verge of another growth spurt. She was only eight but she seemed like she'd get more height than either of her parents. She was standing straight, shoulders back, the way John did when he was being brave about something or when someone had thoroughly pissed him off. He couldn't quie see her eyes from this angle but he knew they were a true blue, brighter than John's or Mary's and he realized that she always seemed to be wearing something that made them seem bluer. Lyssa's influence on her wardrobe.

She looked up at him suddenly her face determined and so brave, so ready to believe that Lyssa would wake soon, that she would be better and they'd be a family again. He felt his heart skip a beat at that determined look on her sweet face, he nodded once before squaring his own shoulders and they strode into St Barts.

John stood by the door to Lyssa's room watching the dialysis machine filter her blood. She looked so fragile surrounded by all the machines, with IV lines running into her. They'd scanned her brain earlier and Dr Levine was optimistic about her recovery once they cleaned the toxins from her system so her body could stand a fighting chance. The Machine beeped and stopped whirring and the technician stepped forward and began unhooking her methodically as John watched.

He heard a noise behind him and saw Sherlock and Rosie walking towards him and for some reason just seeing Sherlock made him feel less adrift. He walked towards them and a smile curved his lips. "The specialist has been to see her, she suggested Dialysis to clear her blood of toxins that her kidneys and liver couldn't clear out." He explained softly.

"Has it worked?" Sherlock asked.

"We won't know for a few hours. What have you found out?" John took Rosies other hand and she leaned into him.

"There was a video. I finally have a face." Sherlock felt some of his previous cheer returning.

"Anyone we know?" John asked resisting the urge to wrap an arm around Sherlock, it had become a habit to hold onto the other man during the time Lyssa had been in a coma but he wasn't sure it was something that would continue when she woke or if it even should.

The tech pushed the equipment into the hall then started to walk past them and Sherlock took a step closer to John to give her room and then lingered there in John's personal space while he spoke. "No one I know and he wasn't in Mycroft's files or Irenes. He is a new player entirely and a good one if he managed to keep this level of secrecy."

"Can we speculate as to motive?" John asked his voice low.

"Terrorism, sadism or he's a creative serial killer." Sherlock replied.

Rosie extracted her hands and walked toward Lyssa's room leaving them to their conversation. John watched her close the door before he looked back up at Sherlock who seemed lost in his thoughts.

"Which do you think it is?" He asked.

"Sadism." Sherlock replied promptly. "He's enjoying the deaths, the fear and the rising tension in the city. If it was terrorism his group would have taken credit."

"Why not serial killer? Aren't they usually sadistic?" John asked.

"Usually but the two are not always mutually inclusive. I do not think this is strictly about serial killings. He's building to some kind of end game. I just need to find that last piece." Sherlock stare off into space and John recognized the signs, Sherlock was On the Case and woe betide anyone who distracted him.

"Why don't you go home and see if you can work it through? I'll keep Rosie." John said softly.

Sherlock looked back at him eyes focusing on John with an intensity that made John want to squirm and fight off a blush which was a new reaction for him. Sherlock looked away to the door to Lyssa's room. "In a bit. I want to see her."

John motioned for Sherlock to lead the way and Sherlock swept into the room as he did into most rooms leaving John to stare after him and wonder what the hell was going on. He followed after a minute and saw Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed facing Lyssa his fingers carding through her hair. Rosie was laying curled up against Lyssa's side talking softly and John had to smile, his odd little family, even with Lyssa in a coma they were still a family. Sherlock leaned in and kissed her gently before standing and walked past John his hand coming to rest on John's shoulder for a moment. John smiled up at him before he went to join Lyssa and Rosie.

Sherlock strode out of the hospital and down the street choosing to walk home rather than catch a cab, he needed to think and walking helped him order his thoughts. An errant thought kept creeping into his head though, a thought he wasn't entirely ready to pay attention to so he caught it and locked it away in a cupboard in his mind palace to review later not knowing that even as he'd caught it… so had someone else watching at a careful distance.


	12. Chapter 12

**And now we start to see what's going on. Will the boys figure it out in time?**

It took another two rounds of dialysis to clean the toxins out of Lyssa's system but she started showing signs of waking up after the third round. Sherlock had all but started living in her hospital room and in between shifts John was there as well. They took it in turns to take Rosie to School and pick her up bringing her straight to the hospital after. So far no new attacks were forthcoming but John could feel a sense of gathering tension in the air, as is pressure were building in a bottle.

Some of the pressure leaked away when Lyssa stirred in her bed. Sherlock's eyes snapped to her as she slowly came around and John felt like he could breath again. She finally opened her eyes and looked around the room eyes landing on Sherlock and John beside her bed. She opened her mouth and tried to say something but after nearly two weeks of being in a coma her mouth was so dry she couldn't get anything out. John helped her take a few sips of water and then laid her back against the pillows.

"What happened?" She rasped and Sherlock felt his heart soar just hearing her voice again.

"What do you remember?" John asked checking her vitals, slipping into his role of doctor.

"Train stopped, there was a collapse in the tunnel…" She paused. "The kid across from me was a cellist?"

Sherlock took her hand and squeezed it gently. "He was, but that's not important now darling."

She looked at him anxiety flitting across her face. "Rosie? Where's Rosie?"

John put a hand on her shoulder. "Shhh love. She's fine, she's at school."

She relaxed and he offered her the water again, she sipped it carefully then reached out for both of them, they each took a hand which shook, tears glittered in her eyes. "I thought we were going to die there… the air was running out and I thought I'd never… And Rosie is so little and…" She hiccuped a little and John eased her up so he could wrap an arm around her, Sherlock wrapped an arm around her as well.

"Shhhh…. Darling shush, you're alright. Rosie is fine, it's all worked out." Sherlock said softly while she cried.

They got her calmed down between them and then called in her Doctor who did a handful of cognitive tests and assessed her physical shape. "You'll need some physical therapy, you have some minor muscle atrophy but you'll be able to go home tomorrow."

While John went to the canteen to get her something to eat Sherlock stayed with her, he'd settled on her bed lifting her up enough so he could hold her and both of them could lay on the bed, he carded one hand through her hair the other tracing up and down her arm. He circled her wrist with his fingers not caring for how thin she'd gotten while in a coma. "I was afraid you'd never wake." He said mildly, unsure of how to express just how afraid he'd been.

She blinked up at him and he ran a finger along her jaw. "You missed a most spectacular row with Mycroft." He finally said.

"What were you fighting about now?" She worked her wrist loose and twined their fingers together.

"He advised me to distance myself from our little family for the duration of this case. And implied again that caring is not an advantage. Sometimes I fear he may have a point, seeing you in this bed hurt so badly, it was as if I had carved out my heart and laid it in the bed with you." Sherlock stared across the room at nothing in particular.

She struggled to sit up but her body shook with the effort and he helped her sit his hands around her thin shoulders holding her up. She had a fierce look on her face but she was so pale and he wondered if she was going to pass out. "That's what being in love means Sherlock. It's having a part of your heart and soul walking around in the wide world where anything could happen but the other person's heart and soul are walking around with you too."

He looked at her sitting up, her body trembling with the effort and something occurred to him. "All the times John and I have been on a case… all those times we came home hurt, or you retrieved us from A&E after a case… your heart and soul are split between us and you never say anything even though you must be terrified every time we walk out the door on a case… Lyssa…" His heart squeezed down painfully seeing the confirmation in her eyes and he cupped her cheek.

"How can I see so much and missed the most important thing?"

The door opened and John came in bearing a tray of food, he looked at them and smiled a little. "What have I missed?"

"Just my solving a little puzzle about our girl." Sherlock said.

"Oh?" John asked.

"She's been hiding something from us." Sherlock said adjusting the bed so she could sit up without him holding he up.

John gave her a curious look. "What could she hide from you Sherlock?"

"How afraid she is every time we leave." Sherlock took her hand and ran his thumb over the fragile skin.

John blinked a little surprised. "Why would you hide that Lyssa?"

She bit her lower lip and looked down at her lap and Sherlock answered. "Because she loves us, idiots that we are, and doesn't want us to change just because she's afraid we'll get hurt or worse on a case."

John cupped her chin and lifted her face. "Lyssa…" He smiled gently at her. "Well we know now, and I for one intend to be a little more cautious."

He leaned in and kissed her gently then Sherlock moved in and kissed her as well, when they parted John put the tray in the table before her and nudged the fork towards her. "Eat up love. Greg is picking Rosie up and you'll need your strength when she comes in."

Lyssa looked from one to the other and gave a soft smile. "I love you, both of you."

Things seemed to be calming down, Sherlock knew it was only a matter of time before he found out who the bomber was and solved the case, he felt relaxed, at peace and calm.

The calm didn't last very long. That night there was another attack, at every airport across England the power went out and stayed that way. Worst of all the planes both on the ground and in the air directly over the tarmac experienced the same strange power failure. It was only through the experienced handling of the planes that all the planes in the air were able to land, albeit rather roughly. The loss of power affected air traffic control all over England and several planes collided. It was the greatest loss of life involving planes in history and the story went international in a matter of hours, even Mycroft was unable to contain the media storm.

In a quiet bunker a mile outside London a genius of a different sort watched the chaos he'd unleashed and felt a thrill of satisfaction coil through him. The pieces were almost all in pace, he now had the attention of the world. He looked at the cork board on his wall and smiled, he had pictures of all the players pinned in neat rows. Sherlock and Mycroft of course, Irene Adler, several Americans who ran America more thoroughly than their own government realized, in fact he had the pictures of every hidden player in every major country in the world. There were a lot of them, this Cabal of Secret Rulers who ran everything from the shadows.

He'd worked for years to find them all, their names, their identities and their triggers and now he was engineering the perfect storm to bring them all to one place. They would start gathering soon, one or two more disasters and he'd have them all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys! Just so you know I made up Lord Brixton for the purposes of this story. Thanks for being so awesome and patient! This will be wrapping up soonish. As always reviews get Good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

Sherlock held the door opened while John helpe Lyssa walk up the stairs, Rosie had already run up ahead to get the couch ready. Lyssa was shaking by the time they made it all the way up the stairs and into the sitting room, John eased her down on the couch and smiled encouragingly at her. "Not bad for a woman who just woke from a two week long coma yesterday."

"It was only ten days." Sherlock corrected striding into the kitchen and turning on the kettle.

"Close enough." John retorted helping Lyssa get comfortable.

"Precision John, precision is the key to success." Sherlock chided watching Rosie bustle back and forth taking her roll as de facto nurse very seriously.

Lyssa smiled and leaned back on the couch, her fingers wrapped around John's as she let the familiar surroundings relax her, John rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and a few moments later Sherlock joined them setting a tray of tea on the coffee table. Lyssa was snugged between John and Sherlock and after a moment Rosie climbed up onto Lyssa's lap and they all cuddled on the couch just soaking in the moment before Sherlock stood. "We have company." He announced and flung himself into his favorite chair.

John got up and motioned to Rosie. "Rosie my girl I think we need to go to the Tesco's. We're low on everything but tinned stuff and Mommy doesn't like eating everything out of cans yeah?"

Rosie looked over her shoulder at Lyssa who gave her an encouraging smile. "I'll be alright Rosie, but I could really use a Mars Bar or three."

Rosie grinned. "They have a new flavour out Mom. It has salted caramel in it!"

Lyssa smiled. "Ooh in that case I want three of those."

There was a knock that seemed more official than the usual and Sherlock steepled his fingers in front of his lips regarding the door calmly, John had his coat on and was holding Rosies hand when he opened the door, a pair of very official looking men in black suits stood at the door and John had to smile. "Hello gents, mind if we just pop by you?"

They shifted a little and parted to let John and Rosie walk down the stairs before they entered followed by Mycroft and a man in a very impressive suit. The bodyguards closed the door and presumably took up positions to either side facing down the stairs. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Mycroft who looked around the sitting room his eyes landing on Lyssa. "It's good to see you awake and aware my dear but I do believe this meeting must be confidential."

Lyssa gave him a sweet smile and started to get up when Sherlock cleared his throat. "She stays or you can all leave now."

Mycroft gave a long suffering sigh and looked at Sherlock. "Sherlock really, this meeting is of the utmost importance, the details to be discussed are of National Security."

Sherlock looked up at his brother letting his hands fall to rest on the arms of his chair. "Then I suggest you come to the point quickly. Lyssa has been in a coma and I'd rather keep her under my eye while she regains her strength."

"Sherlock…" Lyssa said as she slowly managed to get to her feet but she was shaking and started to sway forward when one of the men in his impeccable suit caught her and settled her back on the couch.

"Now now Ms Jones, I have no doubt that you'll keep your silence concerning anything discussed today won't you?" His voice was mild and he gave her a kind smile.

"Of course." She smiled back as he helped her lay the lap blanket back across her legs.

He straightened and waved a hand dismissively at Mycroft, Lyssa felt a little stunned when he backed up and gave the two men the floor, it was odd considering that Sherlock had long maintained that Mycroft was the British Government. "Mr Holmes your brother has assured us frequently, that you are the best at what you do."

"On that he is correct." Sherlock replied and motioned the man who had been helping Lyssa to Johns chair. "Lord Brixton."

Lord Brixton sat gracefully and smiled slightly. "Then I shouldn't be surprised that you are aware of who I am and the position I hold."

"Of course." Sherlock replied. "Where Mycroft is the British Government you are England,inasmuch as the Queen herself is though it's a damned sight easier for you to get around."

Lord Brixton inclined his head. "Quite. This string of attacks has necessitated some rather unconventional measures. I'm sure you are aware of the troubles the airports are having."

Sherlock nodded. "It was all over the news."

Lord Brixton nodded once and continued. "Similar attacks are happening all over Europe, thus far none have happened in the United States but we have no doubt something will happen. To that end we are convening a European Summit, the Governments of every nation will be sending a representative to discuss the matter and what we can each contribute to put a stop to it all, we have to present a united front and cooperate with one another or this could spell disaster."

"You require a Deductive Specialist at the summit to suss out who may be prevaricating and help keep everyone honest." Sherlock said flatly.

Mycroft opened his mouth to reprimand his brother but closed it when Lord Brixton held up a reassuring hand, Lyssa watched in fascination, there were very few people who could cow Mycroft and she was kind of enjoying watching him be treated the way he usually treated people. "Indeed." Lord Brixton said. "We need you to use your rather unique skill to observe the participants and help point out to myself and the other delegates from England who isn't being as helpful as they could be. You and Mycroft would be working together on this as I fear we will need more than one brilliant Holmes mind on this task, there are supposed to be over thirty delegates, I only wish there were a few more of you."

Sherlock had his hands steepled in front of his face again his eyes distant and Lyssa spoke up softly. "When is the summit?"

"One week from tomorrow." Lord Brixton replied.

She nodded thoughtfully. "John is pretty observant, not as much as Sherlock of course but he's been working with Sherlock for over ten years and even Mycroft has admitted he's been useful from time to time which is an amazing compliment."

Mycroft frowned at her but she ignored him. "I assume you'll need them interacting with the delegates?"

"Naturally." Lord Brixton replied turning to look at Lyssa.

"Then Sherlock is going to need a handle who is better at polite social things than he is." She smiled over at Sherlock who gave her a fondly irritated look. "You know you still aren't very patient with… well anyone less intelligent than you love."

"I am patient where it counts." He replied.

"That's because you love us." She retorted with another smile then looked back at Lord Brixton. "John's good at the social stuff and he's got military training, I'd bet if you put him back in his dress uniform no one would even question him being there."

Lord Brixton regarded her consideringly mentally reviewing her background, she was American, in her mid 30's with very little formal education, she'd been employed as the Nanny to John Watson's daughter for several years until she'd entered into a romantic relationship with both men simultaneously. At first he'd thought to dismiss her as irrelevant but she was obviously intelligent and seemed to have a quick grasp of the given situation, more over she was someone with whom Sherlock was familiar and patient and whom even Mycroft treated with respect, no mean feat to get that mans respect. She was a little unorthodox looking with dark green hair and tattoos on her arms but it all seemed to be camouflage for a keen mind. He turned in the chair to face her more squarely. "How would you feel about being his handler?"

She blinked a little surprised. "I'm sorry?"

He suppressed a smile and had to fight it when Mycroft gave a little splutter of surprise, it wasn't often anyone surprised that man. "You are in a committed relationship with both Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, you understand Sherlock's methods even if you cannot necessarily duplicate them, and it's obvious that he respects and listens to you, you have a grasp of the social niceties. You would be an excellent choice."

Sherlock gave a little huff of laughter and Lyssa looked over at him curiously. "She Observes more than most give her credit for, she's simply more modest than I."

Lyssa flushed a little as Lord Brixton looked back at her. "Could you demonstrate please?"

She cleared her throat and her fingers ran over the hem of the lap blanket as she looked at him, it wasn't, he realized, the same as being Looked at by one of the Holmes men, it was a softer kind of Look, as if she were simply seeing him, not cataloging him for future dissection. "You're married but your wife is rarely home, instead you rely on your butler or other male help to get you ready for the day, you have an old long haired cat and you're worried for his health. Your kids haven't been to see you in a long time, that's probably where your wife goes all the time but you've been out of country recently, somewhere very sunny and you had a BLT for lunch but you didn't like it very much."

He blinked in surprise. "And how do you know all this?"

She smiled a little. "You have cat hair on the lap of your pants and spots of urine but you didn't have time to change pants so the cat is old and incontinent which means his health is failing. Your hands and wrists are more tan than your ankles but the tan hasn't started to fade much so a recent trip. Your kids are all grown and live in the sunny climate because you are a very important man and can't take extended trips for just any reason and the only reason I could think for you to take a long trip out of country is to visit family but they'd have to be close family, hense kids who don't visit much or the trip would have been shorter." She paused and looked at Sherlock who was smiling and nodded for her to continue.

"Your wife visits them a lot." She hesitated and Lord Brixton leaned forward a little.

"What makes you say that?"

She smiled a little and motioned to his suit, tie and shirt. "No woman with any fashion sense would have let you walk out with a pale blue shirt, gray suit coat and black tie, only men think those colors look good together, given your station you must have a butler or other male aide who sets your clothes out for you."

He smiled a little smoothing a hand down his tie. "And my unsatisfactory BLT?"

She flushed and pointed at his tie. "There's burnt bacon and a little mayo on your tie. Burnt bacon is awful."

He looked down at his tie and then started to laugh, Lyssa smiled and Sherlock gave her an approving look. "You will do just fine my dear girl." He finally said. "If your doctors are willing and you wouldn't mind helping your adopted country would you join the Summit as our guest to help Sherlock and Mycroft do their duty by God and Country?"

Lyssa ran a hand through her green locks and he shook his head. "No need to change your haircolor, a wig will suffice."

She looked over at Sherlock who stood and joined her on the couch taking her hand. "I can do the job darling, with Mycroft to help and John as well it can be done."

"But can you do your absolute best without alienating everyone there?" She asked looking up into his face and he smirked.

"No." It was a simple answer, he'd long since admitted to himself that he was rubbish at social functions and simply avoided them altogether.

"Then I'm going with you." She said and he nodded.

"You'll need to be diligent in your physical therapy over the next few days then."

Lord Brixton looked a little concerned. "Physical therapy? I was given to understand that she'd been in a coma for a while but as she is now awake…"

"The coma left me with some muscle atrophy. The Therapy is to help me regain muscle usage." Lyssa replied. "I'm already showing improvement though. I should be fine before the summit."

He nodded a little relieved. "I will be sending someone to take you shopping for appropriate attire and a wig in five days, they will call ahead."

He stood and Mycroft moved up to stand a little behind him as Sherlock stood up in his usual bonelessly graceful way, Lord Brixton shook his hand, gave Lyssa a short half bow and swept out of the flat taking his bodyguards with him. Sherlock flopped back down beside her and wrapped an arm around her snugging her in close. "You were brilliant love."

She smiled at him. "I was really nervous, I've never done that with an audience before."

He tilted her face up so he could kiss her, he never got tired of kissing her. She'd missed a few details that were very obvious to him but within her limitations she was good and getting better and he was proud of her. He leaned back a little and carded a hand through her hair as she looked up at him. "One of these days I am going to find the words to tell you how much I love you." She said softly.

He put his arms under her legs and shifted her so she was laying on the couch with his body laid out over hers, his elbows keeping his weight off her chest and she looked up at him a little surprised. "Sometimes you don't need words love." He murmured and leaned down to kiss her with slow languor letting himself ignore all the minutiae of the world that constantly clamored at him for attention.

He ignored all the extraneous details and soaked in the heady taste of her mouth under his, the way her mouth tasted of the tea she'd sipped during their little audience. He reveled in the soft sounds she made as her arms wrapped around his waist while he explored her mouth with his tongue, he'd done this dozens of times and yet he never tired of it. Never tired of the feel of her softer body under him and the feel of her hair under his fingers. He wanted her right then but knew she wasn't recovered enough yet for the rigors of sex and he would die before he would hurt her with his needs.

Her low moan was a heady sound though and he carefully pressed their hips together loving the faint sound of her gasp against his lips. He felt her move under him rolling her hips up against his for a moment before he shifted to the side off of her and it was a guilty pleasure to hear her soft sound of disappointment. "Rosie and John are coming up the stairs love." He murmured.

She closed her eyes and pressed her face to his shoulder hiding her disappointment which made him smile. She loved Rosie and John but it was nice to know she regretted not being able to enjoy a sexual interlude with him due to their coming home. He sat up and pulled her up with him getting her settled just in time for the door to open and Rosie trotted in holding a bag with several prized Mars Bars.

Sherlock watched her talk to Rosie, exclaiming over the candy and gave a small secret smile. Soon enough they'd be able to make good on the sexual promise of a few minutes ago but for now there was tea and candy and the company of the people he loved most in the world.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys and gals! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've been up to my eyeballs in work and I just haven't had time to write but to make up for it have some smutty goodness. No really this chapter is total smut and I should be ashamed of myself but I'm not. Shades of beginning Johnlock in there. This is most definitely the reason this one is rated M. As always reviews are** **rewarded** **with good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

 **Authors Note 4/22/17: Hey everyone I promise I have not abandoned this fic but my life has suddenly gotten very busy and I just haven't had time to finish this up the way I feel it deserves. I will be coming back to it I swear.**

Lyssa woke in the dark feeling suffocated, she could hear rocks pinging off the top of the subway car and the frightened yelps and cries of the other passengers, the air was thick and hot and she squeezed her arms tightly around… nothing, there was no one in her arms but that wasn't right. Where was Rosie?

She coughed. "Rosie?" She croaked and started reaching out looking for the girl but all she met was cool empty air.

That wasn't right either, it was just stifling a second ago, she struggled with arms and legs too weak to move well and fell from the couch with a thud and a yelp. She felt the rug under her hands and bit her lips as a light came on in the hallway. She wasn't back in the train car, she wasn't suffocating, it had been a nightmare but tears still pricked her eyes and she covered her face embarrassed and still feeling the tingle of adrenaline. She could smell Johns shampoo; he liked citrusy scents because they got rid of the smell of sickness and death. He knelt beside her on the floor and his strong hands slid under her shoulders as he helped her sit up. She opened her eyes and saw Sherlock standing in the hall, he came to help John and together they got her sitting on the couch and obscurely that made her start to cry. John rubbed her bag gently making soft noises and Sherlock stroked her hair. "Sometimes all I can feel is sand." John said softly his lips brushing the shell of her ear

Sherlock on her other side murmured softly. "I can still hear Moriarty sometimes."

They were baring their wounds, long scarred and somehow it helped, she started to calm under their hands with the smell of them so close in the dimly lit dark. John smelling of citrus and Sherlock of something more posh, sandalwood and resin. "I was in the train car and I couldn't breath. I couldn't find Rosie." She whispered.

Sherlock nodded and John mirrored him. "You'll probably dream about that for a while." John said.

Lyssa swallowed and started to try to stand. "Rosie…" She whispered and Sherlock helped her up, they all walked to Rosies room and John cracked the door.

With the hall light behind them they all watched the girl as she slept, her little chest rising and falling, deeply asleep as only children can manage her face smooth and untroubled by nightmares. Lyssa relaxed and carefully shut the door. She leaned against John but clung to Sherlock's hand and shook a little as the tension leaked away. "I… I don't want to sleep alone tonight." She whispered.

Sherlock nodded. "Who do you needt?"

She looked up at him, his face was in shadow with the light behind him, she looked at John who stood illuminated in the light and she swallowed. "Tonight can I sleep between you? Please?"

John cupped her cheek and smiled gently. "Of course."

They ended up in Sherlock's bed by the simple reasoning of his was bigger, a Queen Size to Johns Standard Size. Sherlock crawled in closest to the wall and drew Lyssa in after him, John took the outside and they lay in the dark curled around one another. It was a sleeping arrangement they didn't use much; only when the cases got truly horrible. Sherlock lay on his side one hand rubbing slowly up and down Lyssa's leg, John was a back sleeper and lay relaxed one hand holding hers when the mood shifted.

Lyssa wasn't sure she could pinpoint how it shifted or when but suddenly Sherlock's hand on her leg was a line of heat that trailed up and down, Johns hand slid out of hers and he rolled onto his side his hand trailing up over her arm in a matching line of heat and she swallowed, they'd experimented with having a threesome but all three times it had ended with all three unsatisfied and it was determined that they'd keep their trysts down to pairs in the future but somehow tonight Lyssa knew none of them would be unsatisfied with the results. Sherlock;s had trailed up her leg and through the thin cotton of her pyjama pants she swore she could feel every callus from hours upon hours of violin playing. She bit her lower lip as the hand slid to the side the fingers barely skating along the crease where her hips met torso. At the same time John's hand trailing up her arm curled around the shoulder and along the side of her neck and she took a shaky breath as her body flooded with heat and need.

Sherlock leaned up on an elbow and dipped his head down to kiss her while John shifted and started kissing her neck. She made a soft sound that only seemed to excite them further. Sherlock's hand slide up to her stomach then the fingers began to trail along the waistband of the pyjama pants sending goosebumps rippling along her belly. Johns hand traced the neck of the pyjama top mirroring Sherlock and with the last vestiges of coherent thought she wondered if they'd planned this. Sherlock dipped his hand down under the waistband and he gently ran his fingers under the waistband of the panties, at the same time John slid his hand up under her top and gently traced under her breasts. They were both being so very careful, neither was touching her breasts or her vagina but she was so helplessly aroused. She moaned softly and John leaned in stifling the soft noise with his mouth as they teased her.

She managed to work her hands down to trace the hard length of them where they were pressed against her one on either side and they both reacted to the touch. She knew them, their bodies and their individual needs, she knew that Sherlock craved touch, that while he was sexual he was more sensual in his sexuality. He loved light touches, soft handling and the more of her hands and body touched his the better. John on the other hand required firmer handling and was a devoted acolyte to the worship of her breasts and loved when the stimulation was reciprocated. He liked to feel her nails rake down his back, feel her grip firm around him, her lips and teeth against his neck. He sported more hickeys than Sherlock ever did and loved seeing them in the mirror.

She worked her hands inside their night clothes while they teased her and ran light caresses to as much of Sherlock as she could reach with one hand while the other kneaded her short nails into John's thigh and ass and Sherlock had to stifle his own low groan against her neck because John was too busy using her mouth as his own gag. It took more concentration for her to touch them both the way they wanted and needed but she was rewarded with equal fervor from the men. Sherlocks hand cupped her gently as he massaged between her legs and she gasped when John's fingers started teasing her breast. Sherlock sat up abruptly and started shedding clothes. While he was busy losing the pyjamas John took over keeping her stimulated until Sherlock hooked long fingers into the waistband of both her pants and her panties and drew them down and away. Then his hand was back between her legs and she moaned. She felt John sit up and he too started shedding his clothes, he slid his hands up under the pyjama top and pushed it up gathering the fabric and tugging it off over her head discarding it on the floor and then his mouth was on her breasts and she had to bit her lips to keep from moaning too loudly.

Her hands worked on their bodies, touching as much as she could pinned between them and she was rewarded with stifled moans and gasps. All three of them were gasping, moaning and writhing when Sherlock shifted and wrapped his hands around her waist lifting her up to half sit. "John, sit behind her."

John slid behind her reclining against the pillows and the headboard with her laying low in his lap. Sherlock slid his hands down to her hips and lifted them up and Lyssa wished there was just a little light, she loved watching them both during sex but somehow the darkness, the total inability to see one another made this all so much more erotic. Sherlock leaned over her body as he dipped his head down to kiss her and John cupped her breasts from behind kneading and rolling them in his strong hands. She moaned softly again and arched a little and for a moment both men froze. Her shifting had pressed them a little closer than they normally got but the tension faded away and Sherlock pressed his groin against hers, not entering her, not yet. "Lyssa…" He murmured and the single word made Lyssa burn.

Neither man was a slouch in the lovemaking department and she was alway ridiculously easy to arouse with either of them but this, this unusual situation pinned between their naked bodies had her so wet she knew taking Sherocks length and width would be easy, they wouldn't have to start slow this time.

"Sherlock." She breathed and he shifted and slid himself inside her. She arched again and the sensation of John behind her made her moan again.

"Shhhh." John murmured in her ear as one hand came up and lightly covered her mouth, his other kept playing over her body keeping her wound up as Sherlock found his rhythm.

He reveled in the feel of her under him, around him, her body feeding his skin hunger. He hadn't even known that's what he was experiencing at first but he craved her touch, her skin on his and felt hollow without it, he'd kept himself apart for so long, denied his body one of its most basic needs, he had read once that babies could die from lack of touch and had learned to force himself past his usual reticence for Rosies sake. But once he'd allowed himself to touch and be touched by Lyssa it was as if he were a starving man offered every food ever created. He groaned into her mouth as he worked himself in and out of her body and strangely any time his body brushed up against John's where he reclined behind Lyssa he felt a similar pull. He allowed himself to just enjoy the fleeting touches of John;s hands against his chest while he made love to Lyssa.

Lyssa moaned with abandon her hands ghosting over Sherlock in all the ways she knew he loved and she could feel him coming undone, her hands trailed up his back and into his hair massaging the scalp under his curls and he groaned his body speeding up, the strokes becoming less smooth. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead on her collarbone as she used her nails to lightly scratch the scalp. "Lyssa, Lyssa, Lyssa…" He chanted her name like a prayer.

"Oh God Sherlock!" She gasped arching against him pressing the line of her body against his pinning John's hands between them as the weight of orgasm built inside her.

His careful rhythm broke feeling her body and John's hands and he fucked her hard and fast while the orgasm built between them and suddenly with a moan John had to stifle for her she came, Sherock pressed his face to her neck as he joined her in orgasm pressed to her so tightly he couldn't tell where she began and he ended. After a moment of harsh breathing he rolled to the side sliding out of her. "Switch places John." He rasped and they moved, Sherlock reclined behind her and Jon leaned down kissing the femoral artery where leg men groin and she gasped, he nibbled a searing line of arousal up her body pausing only long enough to give each nipple a lick and nip before he claimed her mouth.

Sherlock was running his hands up and down her sides then he used one hand to cover her mouth as John rubbed the head of himself against her opening and she was moaning against his palm. John groaned softly as he teased them both, she was hot and open and he forced himself to wait to enter. He wanted her desperate, he vaguely registered that Sherlock's legs bracketed theirs and he kept getting brushes of Sherlock's hands as they traveled over Lyssa's body. He finally gave in and sank himself in Lyssa's body and the both arched into each other. Sherlock wrapped one arm around John's back pulling them back flush against him and it was all John could do to not just rut into Lyssa. He forced himself to go slow even as he nails swept down his back. He kissed her and she answered, eagerly feeding at his mouth nipping his lower lip the way she knew drove him wild, he answered by cupping his hands under her ass and lifting just a little so he could rub over the perfect spot. It made her gasp and he cold feel her pulsing around him, neither of them was going to last like this. He kept up the pace, the pressure and she was moaning and so was Sherlock and damned if that wasn't the hottest set of sounds John could think of.

"John, Sherlock, John, Sherlock! Oh Gods please… please…" She wasn't sure what she was begging for but Sherlock was undulating under her, not erect but still getting satisfaction from the rubbing contact.

John growled and it was a feral sound to match the feral feeling sweeping through him, he loved these two, he needed them both and he'd be damned if he'd give them up, not for anything. He was close and she was right on the edge, so close he could taste it. He threw reason out the window and moved his hands, he slid them under Sherlock's pert ass and pulled up pressing Lyssa between them making them both cry out. Sherlock's head fell back as he had a soft orgasm the whole length of his body from chest to thigh pressed against Lyssa. Lyssa came again and took John with her reducing all three of them to eye fluttering, incoherent masses of over stimulated flesh.

They somehow extricated themselves and lay wrapped around one another riding the haze of post orgasm all wondering what this would mean in the harsh light of day but choosing for the moment to leave it alone, to not poke the structure lest they find it made of cards and not the bricks they hoped. John had the sense to pull the sheet over them all before they passed out but they all drifted into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

 **These kittens need to kiss someone!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys! I'm back and I am so so sorry it took me so long. I own a business vending at conventions and I am booked solid for the next 16 weeks but I am going to try really hard to finish this. Thanks to everyone who has followed or favorited this and as always Reviews get Good Karma and Kitten Kisses!**

Lyssa stared into the Mirror at the wig shop and gently touched the ends of the dark brown wig. She hadn't seen her natural hair color in a decade and it looked so strange on her, she wondered for a moment what it would be like to go back to the deep chocolate brown she'd been born with, the color that matched her eyebrows and her dark eyes. She ran her fingers down the plush natural looking wig again and tried to keep the unhappy mue off her face. She looked so… average and she felt some of her old insecurities coming out; ruthlessly she squashed them and nodded to the specialist. "I like this one best." She said and the specialist smiled in relief, Lyssa had been through almost every style of dark brown wig they'd had looking for one that didn't make her seem… boring.

In all honesty this one still made her feel boring but at least it was a fun cut, shoulder length with a little curl and what she called 'Little Mermaid' bangs. It looked sophisticated and whimsical. The bodyguard Mycroft had provided her for this little shopping trip paid for the wig, he'd paid for the dress and the shoes and the meal she insisted they both eat and Lyssa wondered if he'd have paid for a small car if she'd insisted but she banished that thought, parking in London was atrocious. She thought back to the gown and smiled a little while the bodyguard drove them back to Baker Street, it hadn't been easy to find a formal gown that she could hide all her tattoos in but she'd finally found a deep red number that covered her arms and she'd just use concealer and clever makeup to hide the handful of tattoos that had crept onto her chest.

The Bodyguard helped her carry the bags up the stairs and once he was sure she was safe with Sherlock and John he'd taken up his post outside the door. The men were finishing up the packing, Rosie was safe with Mrs. Hudson at her sisters in the country and Lyssa felt her stomach flutter with nerves. She'd helped on a few cases but she'd never been as involved with one as now and she was worried she'd miss something important but she put on her brave face and helped them finish packing.

The trip to the Summit was a relatively short one, the Summit was being held in France and once they were in the black armored vehicles it was like being in any cab in any city anywhere in the world. Sherlock sat staring out the window ignoring Mycroft while John attempted to make conversation with the Body Guard and Lyssa watched everyone in the car being uncomfortable. It was relief to get out of the car in the underground carpark. What was not a relief was the sudden tension in both John and Sherlock when a car door opened and a tall rail thin woman with deep chestnut hair stepped out and gave them both a smile that Lyssa could only describe as predatory.

"Sherlock, John, well this is a surprise." She purred and Lyssa almost choked on the sexual tension.

"Indeed, who would have the bad taste to let you anywhere near secrets after your past… indiscretions." Sherlock made the words sound like she'd been caught having sex in public.

She raised a perfect eyebrow and Lyssa started to feel more self conscious in her brown wig and carefully chosen pantsuit. "France" the woman answered as if that answered anything.

"I see." Sherlock said cooly and held his arm out to Lyssa who took it a little bewildered.

The Summit wouldn't be taking place until later that Afternoon so they had time to get dressed and socialize but John was already in his dress uniform and Sherlock had absolutely refused to don anything other than his customary black trousers and a silk shirt that was such a deep shade of blue it looked black in the dim light of the car park. He as usual refused to wear a tie but Lyssa didn't think his somewhat casual dress was going to convince anyone he wasn't to be taken seriously, Lyssa was the only one who needed to dress for the affair since formal wear really didn't travel well.

The woman looked her over and gave her a smile that she'd once heard her father refer to as a 'Lawyer's' smile, it was a smile in form only but you just knew there were serrated teeth behind the carefully made up lips. "And who might this be?"

"You know very well who she is Irene. Don't play coy, you're not qualified for it anymore." Sherlock replied cuttingly.

Lyssa looked at the woman, Irene Adler, The Woman and felt her stomach take a little dip. Here was the woman who had played Sherlock like a hand of Poker and won, she was a genius like Sherlock and a game player on an Expert level. More and more Lyssa felt small and ordinary standing beside Sherlock who had a haughty look on his face, his mercurial eyes cold and distant. She glanced at John who seemed different too, he was no longer the affable man with his cuddly jumpers and disarming smile, he was Captain Watson and looked every inch of it. "Well naturally Sherlock but it's good manners to be introduced." Irene replied with poisonous sweetness.

"Lyssa Jones, this is Irene Adler, Irene this is Lyssa. I advise you to keep your claws to yourself Irene. Lyssa means more to myself and John than you ever did." Sherlock replied shortly.

Lyssa felt faintly hurt that Sherlock felt the need to warn Irene off messing with her, sure Irene was intimidating but Lyssa had dealt with her own fair share of prima donnas in the Theater. Granted none of them had the kinds of powerful allies Irene was purported to have but Lyssa could handle the woman. Then Irene turned her cool eyes to Lyssa and looked her over like a scientist might examine a new variety of beetle then sniffed . "So you're the one who domesticated him. Shame on you, turning a work of art into something as pedestrian as John."

Lyssa felt her brain lurch to a stop, in one moment she was intimidated by this ice queen and in the next she was ready to push her teeth down her throat, her mind engaged and she drew herself to her full, if not impressive, height. "Pedestrian? Really? Is that the best insult you could think of for a man of John's background and stature? Is that even supposed to be an insult? I mean, I'm just an American, we're all about the little guy beating the odds. David and Goliath you know. So pedestrian… that's not even an insult where I'm from."

She looked Irene up and down propping a hand on her hip grateful that she'd taken some time to do her nails with french tips before they'd gotten on the plane. "You know what is an insult where I'm from though?"

Irene lifted her chin haughtily and looked down her nose at Lyssa. "I'm sure I have no idea."

Lyssa leaned in a little and gave her a conspiratorial smile. "Gold digger." She said softly. "Also known as two dollar whore… or slut, skank, stripper. Stop me when you hear one that pisses you off enough."

Irene gaped at her for a moment and Lyss smiled sweetly. "I might just be a middle class white girl from the suburbs of Massachusetts but honey, I've heard your reputation and trust me, being a middle class white girl from Massachusetts with a 'pedestrian' background is going to take me further with less plastic surgery than whatever it is you call yourself these days. I mean really, what's the half life on one of you these days? 5 years? 10?"

She made a show of checking the tiny watch Sherlock had given her for their first anniversary. "Looks like me and John are going to outlast you darling." She smiled over at John and held her hand out to him, he came to her side and she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm with a smile then turned that smile up to Sherlock who gave her the faintest smile back.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go get dressed, formal wear doesn't travel well you know."

She started forward while the bodyguard followed with their suitcases leaving Mycroft and Irene standing in the dim carpark watching them. Mycroft glanced over at Irene who was seething. "I wouldn't attempt anything foolish Ms. Adler. Sherlock takes a dim view of anyone who mistreats her in any way and John gets positively violent."

He left her with that warning and strode after them a faint smile tugging his own lips. It was after all, nice to see the insufferable women get a little of her own back.


	16. Chapter 16

Lyssa finished her makeup and looked at herself in the mirror, she stared at the reflection and tried to shove the insecurities aside, she still didn't like how average she looked. She sighed and made sure the wig was firmly in place and stood up from the vanity. She picked up the necklace off the tray and settled it around her throat but the clasp wouldn't hook and she huffed in frustration. She was about to give it up as a bad job when someone tapped on the door as it opened and Sherlock strode in adjusting his cuffs. He stopped and looked her over; his mercurial eyes fixed on her seeming to take everything in at once before he strode over and took the necklace clasping it with ease. "You look uncomfortable." He said softly as he rested his hands on her shoulders and looked at her in the mirror.

She tilted her head a little. "Do you ever wish I looked like this more often? Like regular hair and makeup and nice clothes?"

He frowned a little and turned her away from the mirror tilting her chin up. "Why would I ever want you to be someone else?"

She shrugged a little and tried to look away but Sherlock kept his fingers hooked under her chin his eyes boring into hers. "Lyssa, I love you for everything that you are. How you look is meaningless in comparison to what's in here." He touched her temple gently. "However if I am asked to judge purely on aesthetics I much prefer your wild hair and bright technicolor tattoos to this. This is just a disguise, a way to fool people." He leaned down and kissed her softly. "It's not permanent."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. "How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?"

"He's Sherlock bloody Holmes." John said from the doorway and she looked over with a smile as he walked over to them in his dress uniform.

She held an arm out and he joined their cluster wrapping an arm around her waist just under Sherlocks. "And I suspect he's a mind reader." John added kissing her cheek.

Sherlock scoffed but John just shook his head. "He's right you know darling. We do love you for yourself, whether yourself has bright blue hair or dark brown. Admittedly I've gotten rather used to waking up to all the colors of the rainbow on the pillow, it was a bit of a jolt seeing you with the brown."

She reached up and touched the brown strands and he took her hand. "You don't like the color though."

She shook her head. "I've alway felt ordinary, average… just someone who was just like everyone else. I hated feeling that way. I'm not glamorous and I never wanted to be the leading lady. I just wanted to be a little different, a little less average."

Sherlock gave her a light squeeze and John mirrored him. "Well tonight you are the femme fatale and you are anything but average. No one average could hold together a life with us."

There was another knock at the door and it opened without their permission. "The guests have begun t make their way to the main hall." The body guard announced and Sherlock sighed.

"I suppose we should go save the world." He grumbled and stepped back smoothing his shirt.

John did the same with his uniform and left a little ahead of him, tonight Lyssa was supposed to be on Sherlock's arm to keep him from insulting too many people while John made the rounds on his own. Lyssa tucked her hand into the crook of Sherlock's arm and walked with him to the main hall and told herself it was just another stage.

In the kitchens servers, cooks and assistants were flitting around in a sort of panicked mania and no one seemed at all aware of the strangeness in their midst, all so focused on their task and doing it perfectly that they failed to Observe the one person who seemed oddly calm. He was an unassuming little man, almost invisible and he smiled to himself, that was his strength after all, to go unnoticed by the rest of the world just by being so ordinary, so average. He glanced at his watch before taking the tray of hor d'oeuvres that was shoved at him and walked quickly and competently out into the room full of Very Important People. He only had to wait a little longer to be sure they were all there before he finished his mission. The task only he could do. Just a little longer.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey everyone! I am almost finished with this one and I am so glad you've all stuck with me through it! Hopefully I can finish it before I begin my new convention schedule, it'll be a while before I post anything else once I start the new schedule but I hope you'll keep a look out for my new stuff!**

Lyssa was on the verge of stabbing herself in the eye with a pen, she suspected Sherlock was not far from that course of action as well and it was everything she could do to keep him from causing an international incident with his deductions. The secret leaders of at least a dozen different countries and the tension in the room was thick enough to walk on. And the careful double speak as everyone tried to get information without seeming like they were and not give anything away themselves, it was all enough to make her wonder how anything got decided ever.

Sherlock had interviewed every one of the the or so delegates and had yet to turn up anything of use and it was making him more abrasive than usual. John was having his own set of tribulations on the opposite side of the hall and Lyssa checked her watch for the tenth time wishing the night over with and it wasn't even dinner time yet.

Finally the meal was called and everyone sat quickly. She suspected they were all as relieved as she was. Plates were set before everyone and she'd picked up her fork to eat when Sherlock grabbed her wrist. "Don't." He whispered in her ear.

She froze and glanced at him, he was watching the waitstaff and she frowned confused. He waited until the waiter had passed before he murmured to her. "Claim feminine troubles and excuse yourself from the table, I will find you in the powder room."

She bit her lower lip and shifted uncomfortably for a moment then took a small sip of water and shifted again with growing discomfort then hailed a passing waiter. Could you let the host know I do not mean to be rude but I am having… lady troubles and won't be able to finish the meal?"

The waiter winced but nodded and she stood up and left the table as the waiter made his way to their host and bent to whisper in his ear. Lyssa hurried to the powder room and waited, it didn't take long for Sherlock to slip in and lock the door. "Sherlock what's going on?"

He checked the room quickly for listening devices before speaking again. "The foods ben drugged. I caught sight of one of the waiters pouring something over top of the food."

"I take it it's not a special sauce." She sighed.

"Clear liquid, probably rohypnol." He replied.

"Oh God… what about John?" She whispered.

"He elected not to eat when he saw you stand up, a stratagem we agreed upon while you were dressing." Sherlock replied.

Lyssa felt vaguely irritated that he hadn't told her but she shoved it aside. "So what do we do now?" She asked.

"Wait for the drug to take effect and confront the culprit. Most likely he will be planting some kind of incendiary device and won't expect anyone to be coherent or conscious enough to stop him." Sherlock replied.

Lyssa fidgeted nervously and checked her watch. "I hate this…" She whispered.

"The waiting is one of the less enjoyable parts of all this." He agreed.

He kept them in the powder room for ten minutes before he eased the door open and led her out. It was eerily silent and a quick glance into the dining hall showed everyone unconscious in their seats; Lyssa searched for John and felt her heart squeeze when she didn't see him. A door at the far end opened a crack and John peered out then waved to them and her breath whooshed out in relief as they hurried to him and squeezed into the tiny pantry with him. "You were right Sherlock, they were all drugged, and the kitchen staff too." John reported in a low voice.

"Now all we need do is find the Mastermind and put a stop to his plans. Did you bring your gun John?" Sherlock asked.

Lyssa watched the two of them and marveled at how completely calm they were while her own heart hammered in her chest. She knew objectively they were used to all this but it was so strange to see them so calm and collected, at home Sherlock was a bundle of manic energy, flitting from one thing to the next with either her or John following behind to pick up whatever he dropped or forgot; to see them both so focused and collected was novel. She realized she should probably be paying attention to what they were saying. 'Send Lyssa back to the room and…" John was saying.

"What? No, I am not waiting in our room like some damsel in distress." She scowled.

John opened his mouth but she beat him to the punch. "If we separate whoever gets left behind is a potential hostage right? And what if it all goes wrong? You won't have time to come collect me and I won't know what's going on. It's better if I come with you."

"She's right John." Sherlock interjected.

John sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Ok, but I don't like it.

Lyssa took his hand and squeezed it. "We'll be fine."

Sherlock opened the door a crack. "Not for long if we keep wasting time in here." He commented and eased out into the dining hall, John and Lyssa followed him as he led them into the kitchen.

They'd been shown floor plans of the location before getting on the plane and Sherlock's eidetic memory led them unerringly through a maze of hallways deeper into the building and down into a basement, John took the lead with his gun. They heard the bad guy before they saw him, he was muttering to himself rather loudly. "Won't be long now. They'll finally have to listen to me when the news gets out, secret overlords, ha! Not just a conspiracy theory now is it?"

Sherlock and John nodded to each other and Sherlock motioned for Lyssa to stay hidden as they stepped out John aiming the gun at the rather dumpy looking little man on his knees by a rather alarming looking bomb.

"That's quite enough of that." Sherlock said and the man jumped with a little shriek.

"You! You're supposed to be unconscious!" He threw a pair of pliers at Sherlock who avoided them easily.

"And you're supposed to be in a mental hospital." He retorted.

"I am not Crazy!" The little man howled.

"You're trying to blow up an International Security Summit after orchestrating multiple attacks in multiple countries in the last three months." John snapped.

"Crazy might be overstating it a bit, what you are is a paranoid psychotic with a genius IQ." Sherlock commented.

"Paranoid? I figured out that there is a secret cabal of men and women who all work together to run the world and no one even knows! No one even believes me but those men and women are the real monsters of the world! They keep us all afraid and in the dark while they run things from the shadows and keep us all dumb and afraid! Well I won't be afraid anymore!" He laughed and the mad sound made Lyssa shudder.

"Well I can't tell you you're wrong, but this really isn't the best way to solve a problem. Explosions so rarely are." Sherlock replied sardonically.

John said something low that Lyssa couldn't make out then he spoke up. "Look, we caught you, you're not going to set off the bomb now so why don't you just come peacefully?"

"No! No I won't quit! I can't." the bomber howled and Lyssa heard John cock the gun.

"Don't take another step or I will shoot you!"

She'd had enough, she stepped around the corner carefully and the bombers eyes flew to her. "You…. you aren't one of them…. Who are you?"

She smoothed her dress and tried to ignore the looks her men were shooting her way. "My name is Lyssa." She said softly. "What's yours?"

He seemed taken aback, like no one had ever paid him the slightest courtesy before. " Harvey…" He mumbled.

"Harvey… thats a nice name." She gave him a faint smile hoping she wasn't about to really upset him.

"Yours too. What are you doing here? You're not one of them." He snarled the last word and waved a hand towards the ceiling and the dining hall.

She took a few steps closer. "Harvey I came here to help, I live with Sherlock and John." She motioned to them. "They asked me to come help."

"Help what? Why would you help them?" Harvey was starting to sound hysterical.

She held her hands up slowly. "They wanted help keeping people safe, the attacks… Harvey, you've killed a lot of people."

He looked down and she realized he was ashamed of that, Sherlock made a motion for her to keep going and she took another step closer. "I didn't want to kill anyone but no one would listen!" He looked up and his eyes blazed with fanatical light. "I had to show them that there were people who secretly ruled the world! And now that they're all in one place I can get rid of them!"

"And then what Harvey? There are probably more, more people waiting to take their place when they die." She spoke carefully hoping she wasn't making him worse.

"I'll kill them too! I'll set us all free!" He nodded fervently.

"Harvey… It doesn't work like that, and you'll kill a lot more people." She took a deep breath and took a gamble. "You almost killed me and my daughter. She's eight… she's not part of any secret cabal, she's a little girl and she almost died when you set off that bomb in London. Other children did die… are you really going to keep killing children to stop them?"

She watched his face grow horrified and she nodded. "It never stops once you start Harvey. Not unless you stop it, You can stop it now. And we can walk out of here and tell your story. You can tell the world, they'll have to listen now."

He nodded slowly. "I can tell my story."

Lyssa glanced at Sherlock who pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket slowly and nodded for her to keep going. "Harvey… you can't tell your story until you come away from the bomb. It's not armed is it?"

He shook his head. "No, no. I haven't armed it."

She held a hand out to him. "Can you come over here and let me handcuff you? Just to be extra safe? I won't hurt you and neither will John or Sherlock if you let me cuff you ok?"

He hesitated looking at the men. "They work for the cabal." He said angrily.

She took a slow step between the men and Harvey. "But I don't. I never even knew there was one until you told me. I promise Harvey…" She waited until he looked at her. "Harvey I swear I will help you tell the world about the cabal but I need you to let me cuff you please."

She put a lot of emphasis on the please and it seemed to do the trick. He nodded. "Ok. But only you. I won't talk to anyone else."

"That's fine." she replied. "Can you empty your pockets for me and then I'll put the cuffs on and we'll walk out of here ok?"

He nodded and emptied his pockets. Sherlock handed her the cuffs and she put them on with his hands behind his back her hands shaking but she made sure they were secure before she patted his shoulder. He looked up at her his face a little sad. "I'm sorry I almost killed you and your daughter."

She wasn't sure what to say but was saved from having to say anything when a team of highly trained men brst in guns out shouting. There was a lot of shouting for several minutes but eventually Sherlock and John managed to get the situation under control and no one died. To Lyssa's mind that was the absolute best part and she watched Harvey walk away with a handful of the Special Team. Her hands were shaking and she felt numb as her ears rang, she wasn't even totally sure what was being said but John managed to get her up to their room and into a chair with a stiff drink before the tears came. He held her while she let the tension, the fear and the adrenaline wash out of her his voice soothing in her ears.


	18. Chapter 18

**Oh my gosh everyone! This is the end of this story and I am so amazed by everyone who has kept up with it since I started. I know Sherlock will seem a little OOC in this but rewatch John and Mary's wedding and you'll see how eloquent he can be. I have a few more pieces featuring Lyssa planed but I will be busy trying to run my business for the next 16 weeks so I won't be able to post as much for a while. Pease please review and let me know what you think, and what you'd like to see next!**

Lyssa looked around their flat feeling a little out of place after her experience in International Subterfuge, she wasn't sure how to go back to the mundane work a day life and she thought he could finally understand why Sherlock was always so manic after a case. She had cleaned the flat from top to bottom, done all the laundry and was reorganizing the pantry when her phone rang. John was on the other end and she smiled. "Hello my love. What has you calling me in the middle of a work day? Another case?"

"No no. heaven's not after that ordeal three days ago. No I was wondering if you'd mind joining Sherlock and I at the Copper Cellar downtown for dinner. Sherlock's at Barts with Rosie for their lesson so you have some time to dress up if you like."

She leaned against the counter. "So it'll be all four of us?"

"Yeah. A nice family dinner." John replied.

"That sounds wonderful. Their lesson is over at 5 tonight?" She checked the clock on the microwave, she had a little over an hour to

shower, dress and get a cab.

"Yeah."

"I'll get myself in the shower then, want me to bring you a clean shirt?"

He chuckled. "I'm a bit ahead of you darling, I brought a clean set of clothes for me and Rosie."

"Oh you've been conspiring." She grinned as she said it walking to the bathroom.

She could almost see the sheepish head duck he did when he'd been caught doing something sweet as he replied. "Yeah you caught me. We've been wanting a family do for a while now and thought we'd surprise you tonight."

"Well I am very surprised. I'll be there with bells on, tell Rosie and Sherlock I love them." She started the water for a shower.

"I will." John replied.

"Oh and John, I love you too." She put as much of her love for him into the expression a she could.

"I love you too Lyssa." She could hear the warmth in his voice.

"See you soon."

"Yeah, bye." He hung up and she stripped and climbed into the shower.

When she arrived at the restaurant she was glad she'd chosen to wear the dark green dress that matched her dark green hair, the dress looked like something out of the 50's and she loved the full skirt and cinched waist that made her feel feminine and fashionable. John, Sherlock and Rosie were already there, she'd had trouble getting a cab and the traffic had delayed her further. She walked towards them with a smile and felt her heart jump when all three of them smiled back, John as always looked comfortable even wearing a dark blue shirt and a tie, Sherlock always looked like he should have been gracing the cover of some high end fashion magazine and even Rosie looked picture perfect in a lilac colored frock.

The men stood and kissed her before they sat back down and a waiter came over and took their orders. It was the perfect evening out and she was thoroughly enjoying herself. So it came as a surprise when Molly and Lestrade approached their table both dressed to the nines. Mrs Hudson joined them a moment later and then Mycroft appeared looking a little put out. "What's going on?" She asked setting her wine glass down.

The room had gone quiet and Sherlock cleared his throat, He stood and moved to the side of the table beide John who had also stood. "Lyssa, you are without a doubt the most extraordinary woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing much less being intimate with." Sherlock started.

"You have made our lives so much more, more happy, more comfortable, more enjoyable and more loved." John continued and Lyssa felt her head spin and wondered if it was the wine.

"You are kind, compassionate, wise and loving. You give your all to everything you do and we are so grateful and so blessed that you have given us both your all." Sherlock spoke again.

"You walked into our lives at a time when none of us had any direction and you took our broken hearts and pieced them back together bit by bit. You gave Rosie a mother, Sherlock acceptance and patience and you gave me a reason to love again." John added and pulled a small box from his pocket, Sherlock mirrored him.

"Our lives have been fraught with danger and uncertainty, they have been dogged by disaster and loss and have taught us to hold onto the truly precious things in our lives, to hold to the certainty that you offer us, your true and certain love. So we ask you, our hearts in our hands;"

They knelt in front of her and Lyssa desperately tried not to cry as they opened the ring boxes revealing a pair of beautiful rings set with a trio of stones each. "Will you marry us?" They asked at the same time.

The world stopped spinning, the universe held it's breath and Lyssa wished desperately that she could save this moment in crystal forever. "I will. I will marry you John Watson and Sherlock Holmes." She said and gave a happy sob at the relieved looks on their faces.

She held out her hand and they each slid their ring on her finger the two bands resting up against one another. Rosie stood up and held a small ring box out Lyssa, she took it and opened it seeing a pair of larger bands with stones inside and she smiled blinking tears away. "Will you marry me John Watson?" She asked.

"Of course." He whispered roughly and she slid the larger ring onto his heavy finger then looked at Sherlock.

"Will you marry me Sherlock Holmes?"

He swallowed hard and nodded his eyes glittering. "I will Lyssa." He whispered and she slid the smaller ring on his slender finger and then clasped both their hands with hers letting herself cry and laugh.

The restaurant erupted in applause and the waitstaff brought forth several bottles of champagne as well as another table and chairs for the rest of the group who were all busily congratulating the threeome. Lyssa asked one of the waiters to take a picture of all of them with her phone and tipped him generously for the fantastic picture.

The night waned but no one seemed to want to leave this perfect crystalline moment. For now this was paradise, the world would keep on turning, crimes would happen, there would be murders to solve and life would go on, but just for that night everything was perfect and it was enough for them all.


End file.
